


The Fault in Their Stars

by AmyAuburn



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Comforting Dean Winchester, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotionally Hurt Castiel (Supernatural), Emotionally Hurt Dean Winchester, Episode: s15e06 Golden Time, Episode: s15e07 Last Call, Fix-It, Hunt Fic, Hunt Gone Wrong, Hurt Castiel (Supernatural), Hurt/Comfort, John Winchester's A+ Parenting, M/M, Protective Dean Winchester, Season/Series 15 Spoilers, Slow Burn, alternate episode ending, djinn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-15
Updated: 2020-12-07
Packaged: 2021-03-03 19:01:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 32,111
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24740449
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AmyAuburn/pseuds/AmyAuburn
Summary: Cas' djinn hunt goes sideways. Dean comes to the rescue. Chick flick moments ensue. Alternate 15.6 "Golden Time" as a Fix-It to that episode through 15.9 "The Trap," because that was some weak character conflict resolution and our boys deserve better ... much better.Mature for language. I like my F-bombs.Style note: UNDERLINED TEXT IS QUOTED DIRECTLY FROM THE SHOW SUPERNATURAL.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester, Dean Winchester & Sam Winchester, Eileen Leahy/Sam Winchester, Lee Webb/Dean Winchester
Comments: 25
Kudos: 76





	1. How do I let you go?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for depression and depressive thoughts.
> 
> Style note: UNDERLINED TEXT IS QUOTED DIRECTLY FROM THE SHOW SUPERNATURAL. I've found that I like writing within cannon, as in actually IN it, either weaving through it to flesh it out and answer unanswered questions, as I did in my first fic "Hunger is Not a Crime," or to do a combination of that plus a fix-it, as I'm doing here. But the remnants of the academic and comp. teacher in me make me feel twitchy taking parts of the show's script without crediting them. Because I use italics for emphasis within my own writing, I've chosen to use underlining to indicate when the words are taken from the show rather than from my imagination. I know it is likely a bit distracting, but I needed to go back and make this adjustment for my own peace of mind, so I hope y'all can forgive me and that it does not prove too annoying! On the plus side, between needing to cite my sources and having taken an unconscionably long break in writing this one, I'm going back and BETAing my own work one more time with the advantage of several months of distance. Yay for less typos!

**_“But here we are_ **   
**_After all the messes and confessions_ **   
**_To the stars_ **   
**_That we never really owned as ours”_ **

**\- The Head and The Heart, _“Honeybee”_**

.........

“You know what, Dean? Ever since God got back, you've been acting like there's nothing we can do, like nothing matters. But we can do this. And this matters.”

“And that’s why you’re going to kick in the ass,” Dean said, raising his eyebrows and giving Sam a face that he knew, even in the middle of the expression, made him look like a total asshole.

Scratch that. He didn’t look like an asshole. He was, in fact, being an asshole.

Which was just part of the reason why, the moment he spun on his heel to face away from Sam, the smile disappeared from Dean’s face as though it had never been there.

He moved swiftly away down the hallway before Sam could start asking any real questions about Dean’s behavior today … or for the last several weeks.

Because that conversation? It was the last thing Dean wanted right now. Not that there was much of anything he _did_ want.

What he was going to _get_ was the solitude of his room, the numbing familiarity of cartoon reruns, and another box of junk cereal that was going to do nothing at all to fill the empty chasm that had opened up inside him swallowing his ability to feel, to desire, to strive … but it would give his hands something to do. Give his body something to focus on while his mind slid over the sounds and color coming from the television.

It was a testament to how wrecked Sam was after killing Rowena that he hadn’t seen through Dean’s glib attitude yet, or at least hadn’t called out his forced smiles and humor for the mask they were.

And that just made Dean even more of an asshole. Sam needed him. Not just on this errand to sift through Rowena’s possessions, the leftovers of the life that Sam had been forced to cut short. And not just to “save” Eileen, if that was even the right word. It wasn’t. There was no saving her now, just as there had been no saving her when that hellhound came for her. The best they could do was offer her a little island between the two hells she was facing. He wasn’t naïve enough to think that trapping her in a crystal would bring Eileen any peace. But he hoped it might give her oblivion, an escape from pain into nothingness.

Right now, that actually sounded pretty damn good to Dean.

No … even if it hurt Sam, hurt their relationship more even than Dean sending Cas away had, Dean couldn’t help Sam with this. Not with Eileen. Not with the “milk run” to Rowena’s place. He just couldn’t.

Because Sam was wrong. Dean wasn’t acting like this because he thought nothing mattered. The problem was that everything mattered too goddamned — or Chuck-damned, actually — much. Every _one_ mattered. And in the end, everyone got crushed under the Winchester’s story.

It wasn’t anything new. He’d felt it for years … anyone who got too close to the Winchesters — Jessica, Ash, Jo, Ellen, Bobby, Benny, Kevin, Charlie, even Gabriel, a freaking archangel — their lives were forfeit as soon as Dean or Sam started to really care.

The difference was that now Dean knew it really _was_ his fault. It wasn’t just the hunting lifestyle. It wasn’t even just the whole apocalypse-destiny-thing. It was literally just them, Sam and Dean. They were the single biggest danger to anyone they considered family.

Finally knowing why they had lost everyone they ever loved didn’t change a thing about the situation. Since learning the truth, they’d already lost Jack and then Rowena … not to mention suffering a double loss with Kevin and Eileen, learning that their friends weren’t even “safe” in heaven where they belonged, that they were instead literally doomed to an eternity in Hell … all because they mattered to the Winchesters.

God was going to take away each and every person they cared about, in the most painful ways possible, and there was nothing Sam or Dean could do about it.

Well, almost nothing.

If Dean couldn’t protect the people he cared about, then the only thing left to do was to try to care less. In fact, he could try to stop caring at all.

The problem, of course, was that “caring too little” had never been a part of his skill set. All Dean had ever wanted was to protect his family. Protect them from death, from evil, from hurt. His whole life he’d thought that was his purpose.

And it turned out what they really needed protecting from was him. But if he didn’t care, then Chuck wouldn’t have any reason to hurt people in order to hurt Dean.

So he’d do what he needed to do. He was Dean-Fucking-Winchester after all. He’d been to hell and back, multiple times. He’d saved the world at least five times over. There was nothing he couldn’t do if he put his mind to it … even this.

He’d push the last few people he loved away. But to do that, he couldn’t think about Rowena or Eileen or any of the others they’d already lost. When he did, he remembered the pain … and it made it too hard to turn off his feelings and stop caring about all of them … his friends … his family … the world.

Dean retreated back into his room, shutting the door. He set the new box of cereal on top his dresser and lay down on top of his unmade bed, not bothering to cover himself with the tangled blankets beneath him, not even bothering to face the TV that had been on for the past three days straight.

God had rigged the game — rigged his and Sam’s life. There was no way Dean could beat the house this time.

What he _could_ do was stop playing. Stop caring. Stop feeling. Stop living in any meaningful way. If he couldn’t win, he could quit.

It was far from a perfect plant. But there was nothing left to try … and nothing left to lose that he wasn’t already going to lose anyway.

Dean stared at the wall, forcing himself to not think about Sam on his way to Rowena’s without back up, to not think of Cas off who knows where also with no back up, to not think of anything at all.

………

_***ringring***ringring***ringring***_

Dean groaned. The sound of a cell phone cut through the mental fog he’d been numbly floating in for the last few hours.

He scrambled to his feet, hurrying into the hallway and down to map room. He shuffled through the tangle of charging phones grabbing the offending one just in time.

Dean had only a second to register the “F.B.I.” scrawled on the tape on the back of the phone before he pulled himself into character.

“This is Assistant Director Kaiser.”

“Uh ... This is Sheriff Alden Roy. Just checking on Agent Worley.”

_Cas!_ It was Cas!

“Would you put my agent on the phone, please?” Dean growled, trying to hold down the flood of anticipation attempting to swap his brain. _You can’t care Dean. Cas can’t be your problem anymore. Just do the job here and move on._

But when the familiar gravelly voice said “Hello?” moments later, Dean couldn’t stop the concern from coming out of his mouth.

“Cas. Sam's been trying to call you.”

“I know.”

“Did you check his messages?”

“Nope.”

“Right. Smart. Why would you?” _Quit it Dean, just tell him what he needs to know. You don’t get to be angry. This was your choice._ “Look, I don't know if you care or not, but, uh ... God ... Chuck ... is back on the board, so watch yourself.” _There, good job Dean._ “And check your damn messages.” _Or good enough anyway..._

Dean hung up abruptly, snapping the old flip phone shut before he could completely lose control of the situation.

Cas was hunting. With no back up. _Not your problem Dean, can’t be your problem, not anymore_.

He stood holding the phone, frozen in place, unable to put it back down as he felt the sting of long withheld tears pricking the backs of his eyes. He squeezed them shut…took a deep, shaky breath.

When Dean opened his eyes again, they were dry, glassy, and blank. He turned and shuffled slowly back to his room.

He wouldn’t realize until much later that the phone was still clutched in his fist.

………

Cas rubbed his hand roughly over one eye, hoping the sheriff read the gesture as frustration with a bad-tempered boss rather than the reality — scrubbing away the dampness that had suddenly threatened to spill over when he heard Dean’s voice.

“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir,” Cas said to the dial-tone of the disconnected phone line before slamming the handset back onto the receiver a bit harder than necessary.

“I'll get you those files,” the sheriff said, with a sympathetic look.

“Thank you.”

Cas turned and left the office, his breath speeding up as he felt his chest constrict in an uncomfortably painful — and increasingly familiar — way.

And really, wasn’t that just adding insult to injury? As an angel, he didn’t strictly need to breathe. If he’d been at full power, he wouldn’t even need his vessel’s heart to be pumping blood nonstop through this body.

Unfortunately he was very much not “fully charged,” as Dean would say. And this very much was _his_ body now, not simply a vessel. Which of course made the physical discomforts of his body more, well, uncomfortable. That he could live with. There were tradeoffs for the discomforts of feeling cold, tired, or hungry. Things like showers just this side of too hot, the full body hug of a heavy blanket, the pleasure of being able to really taste a cheeseburger or a good cup of coffee.

But the other discomfort — the heightened emotion and the way he felt loss, loneliness, anger, and sorrow not only in his mind but physically — _that_ Cas could do without.

He’d always admired humans’ ability to feel so deeply, to love so completely. It’s one of the reasons he’d told himself that this world was worth falling for. How ironic then that this very capacity for love would be the thing he’d hate most about his slow decent towards mortality.

Especially because love had once been such a powerful comfort.

Sure, his love for the Winchesters had never been without its share of heartache and pain. He’d learned years ago in a dark alley, with Dean’s blood on his hands and an anger he scarcely recognized as his own coursing through his grace, that loving humans was a dangerous and uncertain thing.

Love changed you. It made you vulnerable to changeable people. It could make you hurt in ways you didn’t know were possible.

Just look at the mother of that missing boy, desperately begging anyone who would listen to believe her that her son was in danger, to help her find him. The pain in her large, brown eyes was almost too much for Castiel to look at. He didn’t know how the sheriff could respond so coldly to such unadulterated feeling.

 _That_ was what love left you open to.

But it had seemed a small price to pay for the intensity of the emotion, for the purity of it. The way he cared for Dean in particular was like nothing he had ever experienced in his very, very long life. Not his love for his siblings, not even his love for his Father compared to it. Castiel knew that was the most dangerous aspect of this love, but he had simply never cared before.

Now it was too late.

Now, when he would give anything to just _feel less_ every time he thought about Dean, he found he couldn’t stop, no matter how hard he tried.


	2. Slipping Through My Fingers

_“And if our world comes tumbling down_   
_I never could forgive myself for leaving out_   
_You're the one_   
_You are the only one”_

_\- The Head and The Heart, “Honeybee”_

“Alright Sherriff Alden Roy, where are you …” Dean muttered as he typed the name into Google. “Gotcha!” He pulled up a local news story from a small town in western Wyoming.

Grand Tetons … that fit. It’s beautiful country. The kind of place he’d imagine Cas choosing to go. Much better than flat Rexburg, Idaho, the sad Gas N’ Sip town Cas ended up in the last time he’d gone off on his own with no plan and no mission.

Of course, Cas hadn’t _chosen_ to go wandering off alone that time. No, that had been Dean’s fuck up. And Cas had nearly gotten killed by the Rit Zein. If he’d died that night, lonely, depressed, in enough pain to draw the killer angel like a magnet … it would have been Dean’s fault. Every struggle, every terrible thing Cas experienced out there on his own as a human had been Dean’s fault. It’s something Dean never let himself forget.

But currently, what haunted him the most about that night in Idaho was the thought that if Cas had been killed he would have died never knowing why Dean had abandoned him. Cas never would have known how Dean was backed into a corner by Gadreel. He never would have known how it gutted Dean to send Cas off all alone, or how many times Dean had picked up the phone and started to dial Cas’s number only to have his all-consuming fear for Sam stop his finger from hitting the call button.

 _Actually, he still doesn’t know any of that_ , Dean realized. He’d never told Cas all the things he’d meant to say after Sam kicked Gadreel out. Yeah, there’d been the whole painful blow up with Sam, then Dean going off with Crowley to get the Mark of Cain, and all the shit that came afterward. He’d been a little … distracted. But still ...

Somehow, he’d forgotten to tell Cas how sorry he was.

 _How the hell did I never tell him?_ wondered Dean. After all the nights he’d drunk himself to sleep, trying to dull the guilt about both Sam and Cas, thinking of all the ways he’d make it up to Cas when the ex-angle could eventually come back to the bunker — back home — where he belonged.

Because the moment Dean learned that Cas was human, he’d started to think of the bunker of Cas’s home too. And he’d never really stopped. Even though Cas was always disappearing — going off on angel business after he’d gotten his grace back, or chasing leads for the Winchesters on whatever new crisis of the day was happening — even though he never stuck around now that he _could_ choose to stay, Dean had never lost hope that Cas might one day decide to really settle down in the bunker.

It would be nice, Dean thought. Him and Sam and Cas falling into a domestic routine. Dean cooking, Sam and Cas doing the dishes … or maybe Cas would like to learn to cook. He would hangout in the kitchen as Dean made burgers or chili or chicken wings. He’d stand around and drink beers with Dean while he worked on the Impala too. And together, they’d fix up Cas’ room, personalize it. Because if Cas decided to stay, to make a home with Dean (and Sam, of course, too) Dean was sure that Cas would really _make_ _it_ his home.

The closest Cas’d ever come was when Jack was with them. Though Dean knew that was really about Jack. The bunker was Jack’s home, so it became, for a time, Castiel’s home too … or at least his home base. Somehow the angel had never really settled in. _He never nested_ , Dean thought (and if the thought hadn’t felt so, well, heartbreaking, Dean might have chuckled. _Angel … nested, heh, wonder if they literally do that up in heaven, what with the wings and all_ ) _._

Dean sighed. Now that Jack was gone, it was probably pointless to hope that Cas might actually come live with them for real. Dean’s presence in the Bunker had never been enough to draw Castiel for more than a temporary stay. Which, yeah, that stung. Actually, it made Dean’s chest downright ache when he thought about it for too long …

But whatever. He couldn’t really blame the guy. Dean after all had been the one who kicked Cas out the only time before when the angel had actually _wanted_ to live at the bunker. When Cas was at his most vulnerable, Dean had turned his back on him. It didn’t matter that it had been to save Sam’s life. He’d betrayed Cas all the same.

 _Why would he ever want me enough after that to stick around,_ thought Dean before his mind skidded to a halt. “Want me” were the words he’d thought to himself. It was one of those slips that always sent Dean’s mind spinning in confusing directions. He shook his head slightly, focusing back in on poking at the sore spot that had been enough to propel him out of his room at last. The thought that had sent him to the kitchen in search of coffee and then to Google in search of Cas.

_I never told him I was sorry before. And if Cas dies on whatever fool hunt he’s probably on right now …_

Dean’s thoughts were cut off abruptly once again by a sudden drop in temperature in the bunker’s kitchen.

“You’re not in your room” Eileen stated, sounding surprised and frustrated all at the same time as she appeared on the other side of the table. _It’s not like I’m in my room_ that _much,_ thought Dean … _Am I?_

“You’re not with Sam,” he countered, one eyebrow arched.

“No, and you should have been. We need to go. Now!”

Dean’s heart leapt into his throat as he scrambled to his feet.

………

As Dean sped east towards Kansas City, Rowena’s apartment, and Sam, Castiel sat in a police station to the west, poring over local maps and a stack of reports on missing persons and accidental deaths.

There were far more of the former than there should have been in a town this size, even a wilderness town popular with hikers. And the later were suspiciously similar in their shared vagueness — drownings, overdoses, even suicides were listed as causes of death, but very few seemed to have been confirmed with a formal autopsy.

Something was preying on this town. About all Cas really had to go on to determine _what_ was stalking tourists and the occasional townsperson was the conversation he’d had with Andy at the bait shop that morning. If he hadn’t happened to ask Andy why he was so upset, he never would have known that Shane Coogen’s body had been drained of blood. Because that seemingly key detail had somehow been left out of the official police report.

It was becoming increasingly obvious that the sheriff was the main suspect here. The question was which blood drinking creature he might be. Vampire felt unlikely, given his ability to function in his official duties in this outdoorsy town during daylight hours. Maybe a djinn?

If Castiel had been a human hunter, even one as skilled as Sam or Dean, he likely would have left the station by now. It generally wasn’t advisable to hang around investigating a monster when the monster was in a position of authority and must know you were closing in on him.

And if Castiel had been a full-power angel, then Sherriff Roy likely never would have gotten the jump on him …

………

Dean stared into the flames, his heart still pounding in his chest, a look of horror gradually stealing across his face.

For most people, it would be the body burning in the middle of the posh apartment that would evoke this look. Or being the one responsible for setting it on fire. Or at least being responsible for another body in the hall, blood still trickling sluggishly from the fresh bullet wound in the young woman’s chest.

But for Dean, of course, it was none of those things. Dead bodies, one burning and two that needed burning … that was just another Tuesday. And besides … witches. _Goddamn witches._ Dean _hated_ witches, these three no less than 95% of the rest of those he’d met, even if they hadn’t been spewing any bodily fluids around when he arrived on the scene. Well, other than what Dean’s witch-killing bullet was responsible for splattering on the wallpaper in the hall.

No, the look of horror (now firmly in place) was for himself. Sam had come so close to dying … again. And it was Dean’s fault. He’d let Sam come here without backup, to the apartment of possibly the strongest living (until recently) witch anywhere in the world.

 _Fucking hell Dean, what’s wrong with you? You don’t ever fucking learn_ , he thought. His internal monologue wasn’t even bitter. It was just stating a fact he already knew. Dean, fucking up again. Story his life.

He was vaguely surprised to find himself working very, very hard to hold back tears.

………

Sam had been on the other side of the room, having a somewhat frantic conversation with Eileen, half sign language half spoken words.

Now he glanced up and was horrified to find Dean standing in front of the witches burning corpse looking like he was on the verge of actual tears.

“Dean? Dean!” Sam called. “You okay?”

Now Dean was staring at Sam, wordless, his eyes nearly brimming over.

 _He’s in shock_ , Sam realized with bewilderment as he pushed himself to his feet and walked slowly towards his brother, the way a person might approach a wounded animal.

Sam knew Dean had been struggling. Locking himself in his room, trying so friggin’ hard every time he came out to appear chipper … could Dean have been more obvious? _Probably thought I had no idea_ , thinks Sam, grimly, _as though I can’t read his moods like a book after all these years._ Though this particular depression or whatever it was that Dean was going through was a whole different animal than anything Sam had seen before.

He’d seen Dean depressed. Hell, he’d seen him suicidal, and more than once. There’d been the time he decided to say yes to Michael, back during the OG Apocalypse. And there’d been the more recent time after Dean finally had said yes to Michael — the whole plan to seal himself in a magical box and get dropped into the ocean in order to keep Michael from escaping his head. There’d been the crossroads deal too, the death wish that started it all …

But even when things were at their worst, whether it was Leviathan or the Mark of Cain or the year after their dad died, Dean had kept putting one foot in front of the other. He’d always managed to get the job done.

Sam had never seen Dean just _give up_ before. Even when he’d come closest to ending it, with the Ma’Lak box or after the last time Cas died when Dean had recklessly stopped his heart on a ghost hunt, he’d still been doing the job.

Dean had never just laid down and given up. It’s what made his behavior lately so damn scary.

“Take it easy, man. They’re dead. All three of them. Danger’s over. It’s just us now. You got here in time.”

For some reason those words just made things worse.

Dean dragged a hand down his face, wiping away the tears that had started to escape his eyes, then turned away and walked clear out of the apartment.

“What is up with him?” asked Eileen, concern lacing her voice. Sam wondered just how long she’d been in the bunker, how much of their lives lately she’d observed while trying to get his attention.

“A lot,” replied Sam. “But I’m not sure what exactly that was about.”

He’d go after Dean in a minute, but first he had three bodies to take care of before some passing civilian noticed. Sam turned with a sigh, then froze. _What the…?_

The burning body, which should have been a stinking mass of charred flesh and bones (burning fresh corpses was _messy_ ) was already a neat pile of ash.

“Must be an enchantment,” Sam mused, a smile tracing his face as he thought about Rowena and her foresight in planning for burning bodies in her apartment.

“Well that makes things easier,” said Eileen.

………

Thirty minutes later, Sam walked about of Rowena’s apartment with a single garbage bag of ashes and the first of several boxes of magical texts and supplies.

He sighed in relief, letting go of a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding, to find Dean sitting on the hood of the Impala, waiting for him.

“Hey.”

“Hey.”

Sam sat next to Dean, knowing the best move here was to wait for his brother to start talking on his own.

“I should have been here.”

Sam huffed out a small laugh. “Yeah, you should have been. But you were here when it counted.”

“It’s just … nothing I do can change any of this. Literally, even when I try to do nothing, things still go wrong. How do you win when the game’s rigged by friggin’ God himself?”

“You know, I've been thinking about something you said, about how we don't make the rules. And you're right. We don't. We never have. But that doesn't mean we can just give up.”

Dean let out a shaky breath. Sam continued, “I'm serious. We have moves to make here, Dean. We do. I mean, you think Chuck wanted me to shoot him? Of course not.”

“You sure about that? Maybe that was part of the plan, you know? That’s the thing, man. I don't know what’s God and what isn’t, and it’s driving me crazy.”

“All I'm saying is we’ll find a way to beat him. We will. I don't know how yet, but we will ‘cause we’re the guys who break the rules. But I can’t do it without you. I can’t. Just like I couldn’t do it today without you. I need my brother.”

Dean looked at Sam, “You really believe that?”

“I do. But Dean, we need Cas too.”

Dean was already shaking his head. “No. He’s where he should be, far away from us.”

“Is that seriously what this has been about? You’re trying to protect him? You’ve got to be fucking kidding me, man. He’s as much a part of this as we are. He’d want to be here.”

“He’s losing power Sam. I know you’ve noticed it too. And he’s the best chip Chuck has to play against me, against us.”

“You think him being somewhere else changes that?”

“I think it’s the only move I’ve got, Sam,” Dean said, his voice quiet and tired, his eyes wet again.

“No, I don’t believe that. And I don’t think you really do either. And Dean, he’s got a right to be here. You can’t make this choice for him.”

“I can’t watch him die again Sam!” Deans voice was now heavy with tears. “I just can’t!”

“I know you love him Dean. And after losing Mom and Jack,” here Sam found his own eyes becoming moist, “He’s the only family I’ve got left too, you know, other than you. But even if this was going to keep him safe, you can’t do this to him, you just can’t. For Christ sake Dean, after Gadreel I thought you’d figured out that you can’t just go making these kind of calls.”

Sam’s glaring at Dean now. He felt bad about the anger that entered his voice, but he couldn’t help it. Dean hurting the people he loved in an attempt to save them … it was an old freakin’ story and Sam was over it.

He’d watched Cas follow Dean around for years, seen the angel’s mission transform from Heaven’s plan to Dean Winchester’s plans. And ever since Dean first broke Castiel’s heart, back when he’d tried to say yes to Michael the first time around, Sam had realized this went far, far deeper than mere friendship or camaraderie for the angel.

He wasn’t sure Dean realized how deep it was for Cas, but given the fact that all those long soulful stares went two ways … well, Sam had his suspicions Dean didn’t realize how deep it went for Dean either.

Now, having to watch Dean hurt both himself and Cas in this stupid and probably futile attempt to protect their friend … it was too much.

“I know Sammy, I know, but what am I supposed to do?” Dean’s voice broke completely, tears flowing freely once more.

“You’re going to go find him and bring him home, that’s what you’re going to do.”

………

Meanwhile, two states away, Castiel stumbled into the parking lot at the Jenny Lake trailhead. Melly and her son Caleb were already long gone. As thankful as they’d been that Cas had saved them from Sheriff Roy the djinn, the mother and son were even more unsettled by revelations about the existence of the supernatural. They’d been eager to put as much physical distance as they could between themselves and the events on the lakeshore.

And healing Caleb had drained Cas’ grace practically to the dregs. He couldn’t even feel its flicker currently. All Cas could do was wait and hope it would partially recharge one more time.

He sighed wearily as he stumbled toward the old gold Continental. Cas’ foot caught on an exposed tree branch, pitching the usually graceful angel forward in his exhaustion … only to be caught by a pair of strong, familiar arms.

“Cas,” Dean shouted in relief as he fell to his knees and pulled the angel into a tight embrace.

“Dean? What are you doing here?” Cas asked, bewildered.

“As soon as I got off the phone with you I packed my bags and headed out. You shouldn’t be hunting alone.”

“Wait, wait, you just, drove all the way here to help me with a simple djinn hunt?” Cas was still feeling bewildered. Dean wasn’t telling him something. This was _not_ normal Dean behavior, and while he might never match Sam, the world’s foremost leading expert, Cas had at least a master’s degree in Dean Winchester by now. Hell, he was probably ABD to getting his PhD in Dean Studies.

“Fucking hell but I’ve missed you,” Dean’s hand was resting on the side of Cas’ face now, green eyes searching blue, and then suddenly Dean lurched forward, crushing his lips almost painfully against Castiel’s.

Cas’ brain broke.

He froze in shock. This couldn’t be happening. It had to be some sort of dream. It couldn’t be real … could it?

But as Dean’s soft lips continued to press against his, more gently now, Cas decided he didn’t care. He started to kiss back, reaching into his mind for memories of what he’d learned about this from that kiss with Meg, from his time with the reaper, April, and from his strange psuedo-marriage during his time with amnesia. 

The kiss deepened, becoming rougher once again as a decade of pent up passion poured between Castiel and his human. _His_ _human…_ he could say that now, at last, couldn’t he?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ………
> 
> To be continued!
> 
> I apologize it’s taken me this long to update after chapter 1. I jumped the gun in starting to post this one. I know where I want the story to go, but it’s proving surprisingly difficult to get it there. There’s so much cannon baggage to work through. 
> 
> This ending seems to easy, huh? I promise, it will make sense! Let me know what you think. Comments and feedback could help feed my muse and keep this thing going!


	3. Searching

_“Such a fool  
I took your love and I bent all the rules  
You took the blow and didn't let it show  
Stuck around to let me know  
Built a family of our own”_

_\- The Head and The Heart, “Honeybee”_

\--------

“Damn it Cas,” growled Dean, hearing Cas’ voicemail message yet again as he pulled into the small town on the edge of the national park.

“Cas, for the fifth time, this is Dean. Listen, please, I know you’re mad at me. You have every right to be mad at me, I get it. I do. Just … if you can do this one last thing for me and then … well, then if you never want to talk to me again that’s fine, I’ll understand. But please, just call back just this one time Cas. … I need … just … please. Call me. Alright, bye.”

Dean ended the call and scrubbed his hand across his face in frustration.

He meant what he said. Cas had every right to pissed as hell. After Dean sent him into Hell with Belphegor … after the things Dean said to him when he got back …

Yeah, Cas had every right to never want to speak to Dean again.

Still … something felt off and Dean couldn’t shake his growing sense of worry.

_Where the hell are you Cas?_

………

Ninety minutes later and Dean had checked every motel in town. At each reception desk Dean flashed his FBI badge and a photo of Cas, but no one remembered seeing him.

Which was why Dean was now struggling in the Impala — strategically parked between a minivan and an unconscionably large SUV — to change into his fed suit. “Getting … too old … for this shit,” he grunted as he awkwardly shimmied the black slacks up his legs.

After considerable maneuvering in the cramped space, Dean finally fastened his belt, straightened his tie, and headed into the local police station, the last place he knew for sure Cas had been.

Dean sauntered up to the front desk and hit the receptionist with his most charming smile as he casually leaned against the window. “Hi there…” he glanced at her name tag, “Charlene. I’m hoping to speak with Sheriff Alden Roy,” he added as he pulled out his badge once more, “He around?”

“Sheriff’s out,” the woman responded, barely glancing up at him before her eyes returned to the novel she was reading. Dean squinted at the book. It looked like one of those cheap romance books you could find at truck stops … not that Dean had ever picked one of those up out of boredom or curiosity or anything.

He cleared his throat, standing up straighter and shaking the sudden feeling of embarrassment off. _Good thing Sam’s not here…_ “Will he be gone long?”

“It’s Thursday,” Charlene told him, as though that was supposed to mean something to Dean. He raised an eyebrow. “Thursdays the Sheriff picks up his dry cleaning.”

“Okaaaay. When are you expecting him back exactly?”

“Five minutes? Thirty? You can wait over there if you want.”

“I’ll do that,” Dean replied, adding a flat “Thanks” at the last minute.

He sat in one of the vinyl chairs Charlene had gestured at, noting that not a few of them were occupied. In Dean’s experience, small town sheriffs went one of two ways. You had ones like Jody, who took their duty to protect and serve extremely seriously, and then you had those who were in it for the authority, who tended to think they were above the job and the people they were meant to help. It was starting to look like Roy was the later.

Dean drummed his fingers on his legs, tapping out the rhythm to Metallica’s “Enter Sandman.” Soon he was humming along.

By the time Roy finally walked in nearly an hour later, Dean was openly fidgeting in his seat. He sprang up at the sight of the sheriff.

“Sheriff Roy. I’m Agent Plant, FBI. I believe you spoke to a colleague of mine, Agent Worley.”

“Yes, he was here yesterday.” Roy was showing no sign of welcoming Dean into his office, Dean noted.

“Let’s take this conversation into your office then.” Dean felt an irrational rub of annoyance when the sheriff sighed ( _Did he start to roll his eyes!)_ before hitching up his slacks and leading Dean into the back of the station. _No respect for the badge …_ Dean thought, conveniently forgetting for a moment that his badge was counterfeit and he, in fact, showed no respect for the feds either.

Roy settled behind his desk and directed a tired “What can I do for you agent?” in Dean’s direction.

Dean sat down in the chair across from Roy. “My partner was working a case here. Hadn’t shared much of the details with me yet. I’m just getting back from vacation, you see. We were supposed to rendezvous today so he could fill me in, but he never showed.”

“Yes, he was looking into a local boy’s disappearance.”

“Yeah, that’s right. The boy, his name was? …”

“Caleb Green. His mother, Melly, was kicking up a fuss saying Caleb had gone missing. Kid was only a few hours late checking in with her though. Boy turned up on his own later in the afternoon yesterday, after your partner had already left. I tried to tell his mom he was just sleeping off a hangover somewhere with his buddies, but that woman never listens … Anyway, I called Agent Worley to let him know his case wasn’t one, but he didn’t answer his phone. I assumed he’d already figured that out for himself and gone back to his vacation.”

“And this Caleb was the only disappearance Agent Worley was looking into?”

“That’s right. Well, if that’s all then?” said Roy, standing up and ushering Dean out of his office before he could ask any further questions.

 _Definitely gonna need to pay the Greens a visit …_ mused Dean. He followed Roy back out front, trying to decide whether the sheriff’s behavior bordered more on suspicious or just plain asshole.

He was still undecided a few minutes later when he strode out into the waning afternoon light. Dean walked toward his car, head down in thought. When he finally looked up, he stopped in his tracks.

The SUV had left at some point while Dean was in the station. In the large SUV’s place was Honda Civic, and clearly visible behind the smaller car was a gold Continental.

Cas’ gold Continental to be exact. Parked beneath a large pine tree, the car was covered in a layer of yellow pollen, suggesting it had been there for a day at the very least.

The worried feeling that had been growing in Dean’s stomach ratcheted up several notches.

There were no motels within an easy walk of the station. If Cas had driven here, he would have driven away too … unless something happened to him either in the station or between it and the car … unless something _took_ him.

………

Cas sat by the lake, fishing pole in his hand, and sighed contentedly.

 _This_ was peaceful. Apparently, the problem with fishing hadn’t been his inability to catch much of anything. It had been the lack of company … or the lack of one person’s company to be exact.

In the folding chair beside him sat Dean, the afternoon sun glinting off his dark blonde hair as he rattled off a long story about a pool hustle gone wrong, interrupting himself every now to chuckle. When he did, the skin crinkled around his green eyes. He looked so happy, so … light. The weight of the world for once, at least, lifted off his shoulders.

And his smiles were all for Castiel.

Of course, Cas knew it wasn’t _really_ Dean by his side. Not the real Dean anyway.

The kiss had been the first clue of course.

At some point during that long passionate moment, when the shock had faded and Cas had begun to be able to think almost clearly again, he had realized that this really _was_ too good to be true.

He’d regretfully broken away from the kiss at last, his eyes meeting the hunter’s. And oh, what he saw there! The relief and fondness for him, Castiel, former warrior of heaven and, as Dean had made clear the last time they talked face to face, chronic-fuck-up.

“Dean, about the last time we saw each other, the fight …” Cas had begun, and the expression in those green eyes had morphed into one of confusion.

“Fight? What fight? You said you needed some R&R to try to recharge your grace, but then I got that call from the sheriff with you playing FBI agent …”

 _Ah, of course_ , thought Cas. This really _was_ a dream. He was hunting a djinn after all. To keep their victims sedate while they slowly fed on their blood, djinn gave their prey their dream life. It was where the genies granting wishes myth had come from.

The reality was, needless to say, far less pleasant than Disney would lead one to believe.

“Dean,” said Cas, placing a hand on the hunter’s chest to stop his momentum as he leaned in for another kiss.

“What is it Cas?” the man questioned, eyes still confused, and now looking a little hurt.

“Oh, it’s not you … or, well, not exactly. You see, I very much like kissing you. But I’m afraid you’re not real.”

At this dream-Dean barked out a laugh, “Okaaaayyy Cas. How many liquor stores did you drink this time.”

“Dean, I am not intoxicated.” Cas said sternly.

“Uh huh,” said Dean smiling, leaning in once more towards the angel’s lips.

This time Cas met him, unable to resist another time. The kiss was slow, comfortable. Clearly this was something they’d done before here in the dream world. The easy familiarity of it made Cas ache deep in his chest. What he wouldn’t give to have even a part of this with the real Dean. It didn’t even have to be the kissing part. Just to have this kind of easy closeness once more with Dean, even on a platonic level, would have been more than enough.

But Cas knew that this time, finally, things were too broken to ever be fully put back together with Dean. He wanted to be angry at Dean … the real Dean, not the dream Dean who was doing some very talented things with his tongue currently. Cas could not be further from angry with dream-Dean.

Real-Dean, though, Cas knew he _should_ be angry with.

Yet for all the hurt he felt at the hunter’s expense, when Cas thought of Dean what he remembered most clearly was the man’s pain. Dean, Cas knew, had a tendency to react like a wounded animal, lashing out at those closest to him when the weight of it all became too much to bear. It certainly wasn’t the first time Cas had been on the receiving end. It was the first time, however, that Cas had felt no hope for things improving.

So he’d left.

Cas had stayed through so much of the Winchester’s story, keeping himself on the periphery when possible so as not to make a nuisance of himself. He stayed through so much of Dean’s anger. He’d absorbed the hunter’s sharp words, the jokes at his expense, all of it, for as long as he could. For as long as it seemed to help. As long as Dean had seemed to want Cas on some level … on any level.

The last thing he had ever wanted was to feel like a burden to the human. Dean and Sam had enough to carry. The fate of the entire world had been placed on their backs, time and time again. He’d always hoped to be able to help shoulder a bit of the weight, never add to it.

And so, when he thought of Dean, it wasn’t with anger … Cas just felt sad. Deeply, deeply sad.

Losing Jack, then Dean and Sam — the last by Cas’ own choice, for he had felt it necessary for a clean break — Cas had begun to think he’d never feel anything but this leaden sadness ever again.

It made the current fantasy very, very hard to resist.

Which is why, instead of trying to find a way to wake himself from the djinn’s dream, Cas was sitting by a lake, fishing pole in hand, Dean — or an approximation of him anyway — seated next to him.

Cas was tired. And right now, it just felt good to rest a bit, at least for a little while.

Dean looked over at Cas and smiled. A real smile, one that transformed his whole face and made his emerald eyes sparkle. Cas reached out and ran his fingers through the hair on the back of Dean’s head before he pulled him closer and brought their lips together again.

………

 _Okay, what do you know …_ He should probably call Sam. This had turned into a hunt after all, and Sam would want to know about Cas, would want to be there for Cas. But …

Dean wasn’t sure if it was his guilt over being the one to drive the angel away, that this was his fault and therefore his responsibility. Or it could be the mild sense of possessiveness he felt at times over matters to do with Cas — a feeling he knew had no right to.

And then there was Eileen. Sam had given Dean a quick call to let him know the spell he’d found at Rowena’s apartment had worked. Eileen was alive, flesh and blood alive, again. The sheer relief and joy in Sam’s voice had made Dean’s eyes prick with tears. It had been so long since they’d had something to be so happy about … since _Sam_ had been so happy. Dean didn’t want to bring him down from that just yet. And after all, Eileen surely was still resting. Sam needed to be there to care for her as she adjusted to not being a ghost anymore.

Whatever the reason, he hadn’t called Sam yet.

Instead Dean had discreetly jimmied the lock on Cas’ car and searched it for clues — for some sign of where the angel had been staying, what he had been doing … what he had been _hunting_.

 _And of course, me being Dean Winchester,_ thought Dean, _I couldn’t be that lucky._

Now Dean was just sitting in Cas’ car, eyes closed, letting a subtle scent play across his nose. It was sort of like the air just after a rain storm, or like fresh turned earth ( _not_ of the graveyard variety), or maybe there was something green to it, like the wind blowing through a summer field.

It was Cas. Dean had gotten brief whiffs of this scent before, in passing, but it was easier to contemplate now. Which made sense. He was in the angel’s car after all, where Cas had spent more time on earth than probably anywhere else. _Not too unlike Sammy and me_ _with the Impala_ , thought Dean, his mouth almost quirking up into a small smile.

And then there was the fact that, for the first time, Dean could just sit, inhale deeply, and enjoy this smell — without risking a confused angel or a bemused little brother asking him what exactly he was doing.

He _had_ to find Cas. He just had to.

_Think Dean … the sheriff said Cas was probably getting back to his vacation. Not sure I can trust Sheriff Roy, given how much he’d seemed to want me gone and then the fact that Cas’ car was there right by the station. But he probably chose those words for a reason. So if Cas was here on leisure initially, not for a job, what would he be doing? Hiking? Kayaking? Or … fishing!_

Dean remembered he’d told Cas about fishing, how relaxing it could be. He’d told the angel they should go sometime, and Cas had seemed to like the idea.

The hunter pulled out his phone and brought up a list of local shops that sold bait and tackle. Simmzy’s was the name of the closest one.

 _Simmzy’s or the Greens first?_ wondered Dean, his forehead furrowed in thought. He didn’t want to waste time, but he didn’t even have an address yet for the Greens.

Dean sighed and pulled his phone out of his pocket. All arguments aside for why he didn’t want to pull Sam in yet, Dean knew his brother could track down Melly’s information faster than he could. In the meantime, Dean could hit up the bait shop.

“Dean? Hey! You find Cas already? How’d it go?” Sam’s hopeful voice rang through the phone.

“Uh, no, actually. I mean, it might be nothing …”

“What might be nothing,” all the cheer had suddenly left Sam’s tone, as though it had never been there. The question was serious, more a demand for information than a question, really.

“Listen, you know he didn’t want to be found, wasn’t answering your calls. It might just be that. But he’s not staying at any of the local motels. And I found his car, parked by the sheriff’s station. Only the sheriff said Cas had come and gone. I don’t know Sammy, something here just … I don’t know. Anyway, I’ve got a couple leads. I’m thinking maybe Cas might have been doing some fishing—”

“Fishing?” Sam interrupted.

“Yeah, just, it makes sense, trust me. So I’m thinking I’ll check out some bait shops. And then the sheriff told me Cas was interested in this missing kid, Caleb Green, only he wasn’t really missing. The mom was just freaking out cause the kid was running late getting back from a camp out, but that’s all it was. He turned up that afternoon. Doesn’t really sound like our kind of thing, but if Cas talked to the mom, Melly, then I should check them out. Could you track down their address for me?”

“Of course, on it now. Melly and Caleb Green,” said Sam, “But Dean, if this is a hunt…”

“No, no … we don’t know if it is yet Sam. And Eileen is probably still resting—”

“She woke up a few hours ago actually,” said Sam with a low chuckle, “just about cleaned out the refrigerator and hasn’t stopped asking me questions since, about Chuck and the ghost-pocalypse and everything else that’s happened in the last year. I think she’s itching to get out and stretch her new legs.”

“Well take her to that coffee place you like then. After you get me the Greens’ address. There’s no need for you to come out here. Not yet. I’ll let you know when I find out more.”

“Dean …”

“I promise Sam,” said Dean, cutting him off again. “I’ll call when I know more.”

“Just be careful okay. It’s Cas. I know how you get when a hunt involves a friend. Remember with Charlie…”

“It’s not like that,” Dean snapped. He’d been too late to save Charlie. He couldn’t even think about being too late for Cas. “Just get me that address, okay?”

“Okay, Dean. Okay.”

Dean hung up and reluctantly left Cas’ car, walking over to the Impala and sliding into its driver’s seat instead.

………

Five minutes later, he was walking into Simmzy’s Bait Shop.

“Hey there,” Dean said, walking up to the cashier and, for the twelfth time that day, pulling out his FBI badge and a photo of Cas. “You seen this guy around?”

“Yeah, that’s Clarence.”

Dean suppressed a sigh of relief. _Finally._ “Do you remember when you last him?”

“Yesterday morning. Why? He missing or something?”

“Or something.”

“Oh,” the man said, looking worried.

Dean’s heart sank a little. “Let me guess, there’s been a lot of missing people around here recently?”

“No, not exactly. I wouldn’t say ‘a lot.’ We’re a popular hiking and fishing destination, and you know, accidents happen. Usually out-of-towners. They get lost in the woods or we had a string of mountain lion attacks for a while, or the occasional drowning in the lake.” Dean’s eye brows shot up a bit. That sounded like a lot of deaths for a town this size.

The cashier, Andy his name tag said, was looking down, frowning and rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s just that a few days ago we found a local, Shane Coogen. Nineteen-year-old kid. I’m a volunteer firefighter, so I was one of the people doing the search after Shane’s girlfriend reported him missing. We ended up finding his body when we started dredging the lake. And … well his body was drained. Seemed like there was no blood in him at all. Even with him sitting in the water for who knows how long, you could still see the way everything was kinda … _sunk in_.”

 _Shit_ , thought Dean. “You ever seen any bodies round here like that before?”

“No,” said Andy, but added, “usually we don’t find ‘em soon enough to have that clear of a picture though.” He shuddered and took a slug from the cup on his desk. “Every time I close my eyes I see him, all white and nothing but skin and bones. How do you forget something like that.”

Andy looked up at Dean, and it seemed he was asking a sincere question.

“Uh, I don’t think you do,” said Dean, a little awkwardly, “But I’ve found whiskey doesn’t hurt.”

“Yeah,” said Andy quietly, staring into the cup he was still holding.

“Do you happen to know where Clarence was staying?”

“He was renting this old cabin, down on Sycamore. Kinda shabby looking place, small with a green roof. About a mile, mile and a half outside of town. Can’t miss it.”

“One more thing. Did you talk to Clarence about Shane Coogen?”

“Yeah, actually, that was the last conversation I had with him come to think about it.”

“Thanks,” said Dean, turning to go.

“When you find Clarence, can you have him give the shop a call, just to let me know he’s okay?” Andy called after him.

Dean turned, his eyebrows raised a bit in surprise. “Sure … you two friends or something.”

“Sort of I guess. He’d come in here most days to buy bait, sometimes a magazine or a protein bar.” Dean gave a little start … _How low is Cas on power that he’s having to eat?,_ Dean wondered. Andy went on, “He was usually the first costumer here in the morning. Real early bird Clarence. And he’d usually chat with me a bit before he headed to the lake.”

“So he was here fishing?” Dean asked … it was a lame question he knew. Of course Cas was here fishing. This was a bait shop after all. Dean had already guessed that anyway. But still, it was a hard thing to picture. Castiel, warrior of heaven, sitting quietly by a lake waiting for the fish to bite. He sort of liked the image though. Cas doing something so human, so peaceful. Something just for fun.

“Yeah, but he wasn’t having much luck with it. Kept at it though. Said a friend of his had recommended it, told him it was ‘meditative.’”

“Right,” said Dean, clearing his throat as he realized he was the friend. “Did he … did he seem like it was working? He seem relaxed?”

“Not relaxed, no. He seemed … well I guess I always thought he seem kinda sad about something. Never asked what though. Didn’t feel like my place,” said Andy.

With a nod Dean turned once again for the door and left the shop, his image of Cas suddenly a lot less rosy than what he’d been imagining a moment before. _And whose fault is that?,_ Dean thought angrily, guilt making his breath catch in his throat.

A body drained of blood then hidden in the lake, submerged well enough that it took dredging to dislodge it. There was definitely a case here, one Cas had been working. And it wasn’t about the Green kid, it was about Shane Coogen. Something the sheriff had conveniently forgotten to mention.

Sheriff Roy was definitely leaning more towards suspicious than asshole now. Or suspicious _and_ asshole anyway.

Dean’s phone rang. He glanced at the screen. Sam.

“Hey,” Dean said as he answered, “you find that address?”

“Yeah, 50 Warbler Way. You find anything out about Cas?”

“Yeah, I’ve got a location on where he was staying. I’m heading over there now. Then I’ll swing by the Green’s. The bait shop guy knew Cas, called him Clarence. And get this. The last day anyone saw Cas? A body was found in the lake. Drained of blood.”

“Alright, I’ll get my stuff and head out right away.”

Dean sighed. “Yeah, alright, give me a call when you get here.”

“Hey Dean, I meant what I said before. Be careful.”

“Ah, you know me Sammy,” Dean said, forcing a light tone into his voice, “I’m always careful.”

“Uh-huh,” Sam replied, unimpressed. “Look, I know you’re blaming yourself for Cas being there in the first place.”

“What, you a mind reader now,” Dean shot back, his irritation rising steadily.

“No, jerk, I know you. Just don’t do anything stupid.”

“Yeah, well, this is my mess Sam. And yeah, it is my fault. I’m the one who was a dick to him. I’m the one who let him walk out that door.”

“And he’s going to be pissed if you get hurt trying to save him,” Sam shot back, his own irritation rising to meet Dean’s. “I will be too.”

“I’m not going to do anything stupid Sam. But I’m not waiting for you either.” An image of Charlie, her bloody form crumpled in a bath tub, flashed through Dean’s mind. He shuddered.

Dean ended the call abruptly, then got back in the Impala and turned the ignition.

Sam was 5 hours away. Dean didn’t want Cas missing for even one more hour, much less 5.

He had to find him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the long wait! Next chapter is already well underway.


	4. The Important Things

_“I can't imagine how my life would be  
If all your gravity did not hit me  
Oh, don't you see?  
Darling, my honeybee.”_

_\- The Head and The Heart, “Honeybee”_

Cas was wondering what the ethics of this situation were.

Dream-Dean was drinking yet another beer.

He seemed to have a more normal human alcohol tolerance than real-Dean, and he was getting progressively...well, Cas could only call it sillier, as their game of pool progressed.

“Your turn,” Dean said, grinning broadly and smacking Cas playfully on the ass. Cas jumped a bit, despite it being at least the third time Dean had done the same thing this evening. The hunter chuckled, and it occurred to Cas that maybe his jumping was the reason Dean kept smacking him.

Cas eyed the billiard table, deciding on the nine ball for his next shot. Dean was ostensibly “teaching” him pool, though Cas really didn’t need much instruction. It was simple math to figure out the requisite angles.

He leaned over the table lining up his shot, and suddenly a pair of strong hands were on his arms, adjusting his posture. “Like this,” Dean said, his breath warm against Cas’ ear. And though Cas was perfectly capable of taking the shot by himself, he let Dean maneuver him, draw his arm back, then press his body against Cas’ back as they hit the cue ball together.

Cas stiffened a bit in surprise at a hard pressure against his leg. _That_ was the reason for his ethical dilemma. The kissing was one thing. But sexual intercourse with dream-Dean felt like it would be crossing a line. Real-Dean wouldn’t like it anyway, Cas was sure.

And Cas had the ridiculous thought — absurd really, because it would never happen — but he couldn’t help thinking that he didn’t want their first time to be less than real.

Dream-Dean, however, was becoming increasingly amorous as the evening wore on. His hands found ever more reasons to touch Cas, and they lingered longer each time.

Cas’s face reddened a bit, a fact that didn’t escape dream-Dean’s notice. He laughed softly, and gently kissed the back of Cas’ neck before moving away to take his turn, deftly hitting the striped 7 ball into a corner pocket. Cas had missed his shot after all. Though it wasn’t really his fault. The sudden discovery of Dean’s very obvious arousal had made him jump slightly at the last moment, jerking his pole cue and causing his shot to go wildly askew.

But, looking into dream-Dean’s eyes, at the way they openly shone with love when he gazed at Cas, the angel couldn’t feel annoyed. Quite the contrary. All the affection he felt for the hunter was now right at the surface, and it was nearly overwhelming.

Which made the fact that Cas couldn’t take things any further with him very, very frustrating, even if it was Cas’ choice.

Especially because Cas could already tell that dream-Dean was not going to give up easily.

_Maybe if I get him intoxicated enough, he’ll just fall asleep?_

It was an idea anyway. Cas waved the waitress over.

………

Dean pulled up to the Melly Green’s house, a cute little craftsman number. _Gotta stop watching HGTV…_ thought Dean.

Cas’ cabin, where Dean had just come from, was _not_ cute. It made sense that the angel would go as budget as possible on accommodations. He didn’t have many assets as far as Dean knew, and he hadn’t been using the credit card Dean had given him after the last time Cas had been human.

But the cabin had been bad, even by Dean’s road tripping standards. The roof looked like it had a leak. The whole place had a dingy feel about it, despite the recently used cleaning supplies he’d found in Cas’ kitchen. There wasn’t even a TV. And there were almost no possessions to show that Cas had been staying there. All Dean had found was a tackle box with a few lures and hooks in it, an old fishing pole, and few books that had seen much better days.

And most depressing of all, there had been no clues as to the angel’s whereabouts.

Which is why Dean was, once again, marching up to a door with his best FBI smile plastered on.

“Hello?” asked a woman as she cautiously opened the door about 10 inches

“Hi, are you Melly Green?”

“I am…” she replied, still acting suspicious, arms crossed over her chest and body blocking the narrow space she’d allowed the door to open.

“I’m Agent Plant, FBI,” said Dean, showing her his badge. Melly immediately relaxed letting the door open a bit wider.

“Oh, are you here about Caleb? Because I called Agent Worley to let him know that it was all a misunderstanding — I left a voicemail. Caleb came home yesterday afternoon. He’s in his room right now … grounded … but I can have him come to the door if you’d like. CALEB,” she called up the stairs before Dean could stop her.

“No, that’s … that’s alright. Sheriff Roy already updated me on Caleb’s situation,” said Dean as Caleb Green himself finally made his appearance, loping down the stairs. Dean gave him a small wave and an apologetic nod. “I actually wanted to talk to you about my partner, Agent Worley.”

“Is everything okay?” asked Melly, her brows knitting into an expression of concern.

“Well, it appears you were one of the last people to see my partner. I haven’t been able to get in touch with him since I got into town.”

“Oh!” said Melly, “I hope he’s alright! You checked his cabin? The Dowling place, little cabin on Sycamore, about a mile outside of town?” Dean gave her a startled look and she continued, “Small town, you know. An attractive stranger moves in, word travels fast.”

 _Does she look bashful?!_ thought Dean, immediately feeling defensive _. Cas isn’t even in town two weeks and he has all the soccer moms after him?_

Dean shook off his irritation, not letting himself consider what it might mean. He cleared his throat, “Could you tell me what you and Agent Worley spoke about?”

“It was a brief conversation really,” she replied. “We were both waiting for the sheriff at the station. When I heard he was an FBI agent, I asked him if he could help me find Caleb, because Sheriff Roy, he never takes anything I bring to his attention seriously.”

“So you were the one who first brought Caleb’s disappearance to Agent Worley’s attention?” questioned Dean.

“I didn’t disappear,” Caleb interrupted. “I wasn’t even gone 24 hours.”

“He wasn’t at the campsite he told me he’d be at,” Melly said, shifting her attention back to the supposed FBI agent as she explained. “Hadn’t been there at all in fact. A family had been camping there all weekend — they told me when I went looking for him in the morning. Turns out one of the boy’s older brothers got a keg and they were all drinking, unsupervised, in a field — with a bonfire no less. _That’s_ something Sheriff Roy should be looking into. It’s _illegal_ to supply alcohol to minors.”

“I’ll mention it next time I see him,” said Dean, and it was all he could get in before Caleb was once again talking over him.

“We _were_ camping. And we were being safe. No one drove. The fire wasn’t even that big. No one else’s parents freaked out and went to the police when they weren’t home at the crack of dawn. You always jump to the worst conclusion. I’m surprised you didn’t have them dredging the lake or searching the mine, even though you know I wouldn’t camp in that part of the woods.”

“What part of the woods,” Dean interrupted.

“Between the lake and the old silver mine,” said Melly. “The mine is supposed to be toxic, and there were these mountain lion attacks there a few years back. It’s near where they found the Coogen boy just the other day actually. That part of the forest is just bad news. All the locals avoid it.”

“Could you point this mine out to me on a map?” asked Dean, pulling up his phone’s GPS.

………

As Sam pulled into the parking lot, the moon was just rising over the tree line. Night had already fallen, but at least with a nearly full moon it wouldn’t be _too_ dark in the forest.

His headlights swept over a _very_ impatient looking Dean leaning on the Impala’s hood.

“Your brother looks happy to see us,” said Eileen from the passenger seat, the sarcasm clear in her voice. Sam stopped the car and then turned to look at her so she could see his face clearly as he talked. “He is happy to see us,” Sam said, doing his best to convey ‘happy’ with his hands as well. “He’s just worried about Cas.”

“I know,” she said, “We’ll find him Sam.” She carefully signed the words as she talked. He had the feeling she was slowing down her motions so that he could catch them all and maybe remember some.

On the long car ride to Wyoming, after he had thoroughly lost the argument that Eileen should sit this hunt out, Sam had continued to fill her in on what had happened in the world during her time in Hell. And she had filled Sam in on some things he hadn’t fully noticed in the bunker. Some things about Dean, to be specific.

Eileen had spent a solid week trying to get their attention before she finally managed to manifest herself visibly in front of Sam. She hadn’t meant to invade their privacy, but she’d been in Hell for a year and was a lost soul on the run. She was desperate.

Which is how, during her time yelling at Dean, trying to get his attention, she’d seen exactly what he’d been doing cooped up in his room all those days. Or really, what he hadn’t been doing — which was anything. Sam hadn’t realized just how bad things had gotten. Yeah, he’d been dealing with his own stuff, but after Cas left he should have known that Dean would be totally wreaked.

He wasn’t sure if he could have done anything much to help, but he was kicking himself for not having tried. The last time Dean had lost Cas he’d killed himself after all — temporarily, to be fair, but it was still reckless. Sam couldn’t help but feel like he should have been watching his brother more closely, no matter that Sam was also dealing with losing his mom, Jack, Rowena, and then basically Cas, same as Dean had been.

At the end of the day, maybe it was just too easy to slide back into the lifelong mindset of Dean being the strong older brother, the rock that kept the Winchesters going.

A rock that was looking decidedly pissed off as Sam and Eileen got out of the car to greet him.

“Took you long enough,” Dean snapped at Sam, before turning to Eileen and immediately shifting to a smile and a gentler tone. “Hey Eileen good to see you all … alive again.”

“Good to be alive again,” said Eileen, smiling back.

Dean turned back to Sam, “The only reason I waited for you, by the way, is that you have the djinn juice.”

“Can we not call it that Dean?”

“You do have it though, the djinn antivenom or whatever right? I found a local butcher and got some lamb’s blood for the knives.”

“Yeah, I’ve got the potion. All loaded up into syringes already. And some others with dead man’s blood in case we’re wrong and it’s vampires instead. You know … it probably is a djinn if you’re right about the sheriff being the prime suspect. But the possibility that it could be vampires has me really not liking the fact that we’re doing this at night.”

“Sam, Cas has been missing for more than a day already. I’m not waiting till morning.”

Sam sighed in frustration, “Yeah, fine, I get it Dean. We just need to be careful. Like I said, if you get yourself killed trying to save him, Cas is never going to forgive either one of us.”

“So worst case it’s a nest of vampires,” Eileen said, strapping a lamb’s blood coated machete to her leg. “It’s not like we haven’t all single handedly taken out a next of vampires before, right?” She stood up and smiled brightly at the brothers who were both giving her a fairly wide-eyed look.

She slapped each of them on the back in turn and took off across the parking lot, calling over her shoulder, “Come on, night’s not getting any younger.”

Dean turned to Sam and said, real respect in his voice, “Sam, I know I’ve said it before about other chicks, but this time I mean it, marry that woman.”

Sam pushed past Dean with a huff, following Eileen down the trail.

………

Back at Cas’ cabin, dream-Dean was trying his damndest to get the angel’s pants off.

Fortunately, however, Cas’ plan seemed to have worked … perhaps a little too well. He’d had to half carry dream-Dean from the car into the building. Still, Dean’s ardent fumbling had failed to progress any further, so Cas supposed this was a win.

Cas brought the hunter a glass of cold water and hovered until he drank the whole thing.

Dean flopped backwards on the bed. Cas set the empty glass on the bedside table before sitting down on the mattress next to Dean…who immediately lurched upwards and knocked Cas down onto his back. Cas shut his eyes, inhaling the other man’s scent — his shampoo and aftershave mingled with faint traces of gunpowder and motor oil — and enjoying the heavy pressure of Dean’s body sprawled across his own.

Dean kissed Cas’ jawbone then his neck as one hand worked, once more unsuccessfully, to undo his belt buckle. Cas noted that Dean seemed to finally be running out of energy, the kisses growing lazier, the roaming hands less goal oriented.

Soon Dean was curled against his side, his head resting on Cas’ shoulder, his breathing growing slower and steadier by the minute. Several minutes passed, and Cas — who thought the other man was asleep — was surprised to hear the hunter mumble something incoherent.

“What was that?” he asked, his mouth quirked into an affectionate grin. It had been so easy, so natural, to fall into this physical intimacy with his friend.

“I love you,” Dean repeated.

Cas froze, startled by the sudden ache that gripped his chest.

Occasionally in the past he’d allowed himself to imagine a moment like this — those fantasies in fact going further, physically, then he’d allowed things to go tonight. But he’d never imagined Dean saying those words. He’d never dared hope, even in his wildest dreams, that this precise moment was possible.

And hearing the words from this Dean he’d conjured in his djinn dream just…well it hurt.

This wasn’t Dean, not _his_ Dean, not really. And a real moment like this one felt even more impossible now than it ever had before. He wasn’t sure how long he’d been under the djinn’s spell, but he knew it had likely been close to a day. How much of that time had the djinn been draining his blood? He wasn’t even sure when he’d been taken. Was it in the woods with Melly? Or back at the police station, or perhaps even earlier?

He wasn’t sure. To have his real life blend so seamlessly with his dream world … the djinn must be a very old one, very skilled in the tools of its kind.

Cas knew Dean had once woken himself from a djinn dream, a truly impressive feat of will power. He suspected Dean himself did not even realize how unusual it had been.

Cas doubted he’d be able to break free himself.

He’d never see Dean, the real Dean — _my Dean,_ he let himself think — ever again.

Cas held dream-Dean close, listening to the hunter’s snores as warm tears rolled from blue eyes into dark blonde hair.

………

The three hunters moved carefully down the trail, flashlights aimed low to ground. When they found the mine 40 minutes later, Sam heard Dean breathe an audible sigh of relief. He couldn’t help but agree. None of them were exactly seasoned hikers, and they were totally unfamiliar with this terrain. It felt like a miracle that they’d been able to navigate the trails in the dark.

Dean turned, silently motioning that he’d take point. Sam and Eileen nodded, both already holding their blood streaked machetes. Whatever they might find in the mine, they were ready.

They spread out and entered the tunnel, feet moving as quietly as possible. The first branch they encountered was a dead end, the next, was blocked from what looked like a long ago cave in. In the third branch they found what they were looking for.

As soon as Dean’s flashlight illuminated Cas, hanging by his hands and looking deathly pale, the hunter was running for their friend, all attempts at silence forgotten.

 _Shit_ , thought Sam. Eileen was already sweeping her light around the cavern, checking to make sure they were alone. No djinn in sight, just one other victim, clearly dead.

As soon as they were sure they were alone, Eileen took sentry position, insuring no one would enter the cavern without them knowing.

Sam turned back to Dean who had cut Cas down and was cradling the angel in his arms. “Come on Cas, wake up. I need you to wake up,” the blond man muttered. Sam stood still, struck by the tenderness of the moment, the gentleness with which his brother held their friend despite the desperation that was clear in his tone.

Dean dropped his forehead to Cas’, continuing to half whisper desperate encouragements. Tears were falling from green eyes onto Cas’ face now. When Cas’ eyes fluttered open, Sam felt sure for a moment that Dean was going to kiss the angel. Something about the way Dean held him, the look of relief in Dean’s eyes … it just felt inevitable. Which caught Sam a bit off guard. Not like he hadn’t suspected Dean’s feelings went beyond platonic, but he’d never felt so sure of it before.

But instead of leaning closer, Dean froze. It looked almost as if he had to consciously stop himself from closing the distance between his face and Cas’. He lifted his hand and cupped Cas’ cheek in his palm instead, a sob catching in his throat at the same time his face broke into a smile. His wet eyes beamed at the angel, who looked only vaguely conscious and very, very disorientated. 

“There you are buddy,” said Dean, his voice thick. “Thought for a minute I’d lost you.”

“Oh,” said Cas, looking groggily up into Dean’s eyes. “I’m still dreaming, aren’t I?”

And with that, the angel abruptly lost consciousness again.

Dean, slightly calmer now, checked Cas’ vitals then turned to meet Sam’s questioning gaze. “I think he’s going to be okay for now, but we should get him out of here, fast.”

Sam knew Cas was low on power, but his pallor and confusion seemed shockingly human. As Dean gathered their friend into his arms and rose to his feet, Sam’s gaze swept the cave for clues. A faint blue light — just a bare flicker, small enough he hadn’t noticed it on the first or even second pass when his flashlight had tracked with his eyes — caught his attention. Sam’s stomach dropped.

He approached the glowing spot slowly, and was unsurprised when his light illuminated an angel blade and a small glass vial among the pile of IV bags, syringes, and rope.

“Dean! Come take a look at this.”

Dean walked over, Cas still cradled in his arms — a position Sam knew not even a strong man like his brother could sustain for very long.

“Fuck. Is that what I think it is?” Dean asked.

“Yeah, pretty sure that’s what’s left of Cas’ grace.” Sam reached over and gently raised Cas’ chin with one hand. Sure enough, he found a small, tell-tale cut on the angel’s throat.

“Well, open it up. Put it back in him,” came Dean’s urgent voice from darkness. Sam swung his light up to illuminate his brother’s face, causing Dean to squint and look away. “Watch where you’re shining that thing, wouldya?”

“Are you crazy? This is pure angel grace. Even just this tiny bit is like handling a nuclear weapon. We don’t even know how to put it back, or whether he needs to be conscious for it to work, or anything.”

“Well, we can’t just let him die of blood loss either,” growled Dean.

“Look, how many bags of blood are there over there?”

Dean turned around, hitching Cas’ body up a bit higher in his arms.

“Looks like … one nearly full one I disconnected from him. And … hey, open this cooler.”

“One more in here. They’re both fuller than an average blood bag. But still less than three pints. He can survive that.”

“And if there was another bag we didn’t know about?”

“Then he wouldn’t have woken up at all probably. We don’t know what happens if we uncap this bottle, and we’re not going to find out unless he’s crashing, okay?”

“Fine,” muttered Dean, turning toward the mine’s main passage. “Let’s get out of here.”

………

Covering ground they’d already walked, and being less cautious with their lights, they made better time. They were back at the Impala in 25 minutes, even with Dean shifting Cas from his arms to his shoulders then back every few minutes. Sam had offered to carry Cas more than once, but each time Dean had just shoved past him with a grunted, “I’m fine.”

Cas’ condition and the guilt for it were Dean’s to carry, both literally and figuratively, Dean felt. He assumed Sam had guessed as much when his brother eventually stopped offering, despite Dean’s gradually slowing pace and increasing number of stumbles as they neared the trailhead.

Dean just hoped Sam hadn’t guessed the other reason for his reluctance. If he handed Cas off to Sam, then Dean wouldn’t be able to personally check to make sure Cas was breathing each time he shifted positions. He already felt half-crazy with frustration over his uselessness. If any more of this situation got out of Dean’s control he was afraid he’d lose it completely.

When they at last broke from the tree cover into the parking lot, Eileen turned to Sam and said, matter-of-factly, “Give me the keys. I’ll drive your car, you drive Dean’s.”

“Are you sure,” stammered Sam. “You’ve been back for less than a day…”

If looks could burn, Sam would have been a pile of ashes.

“Just because I was a ghost this morning does _not_ mean I’ve forgotten how to drive Sam. And are you forgetting I just hunted a djinn with you?”

“Okay, okay,” said Sam, fumbling his keys out of his pocket and nearly dropping them in the process.

“Thank you,” said Eileen, taking the keys from him, her tone clearly saying _good choice._ “I’ll follow you.” And with that she turned on her heel and walked briskly to the Sam’s non-descript back up car.

Sam turned to Dean, who was awkwardly trying to work the Impala keys out of his pocket without setting Cas down. “Little help here?”

As soon as Sam fished the keys out of Dean’s pocket, Dean somehow had the Impala’s rear door open and was sliding both himself and Cas onto the leather bench seat. _Not how I’d have pictured getting you into the back seat_ , though Dean to himself, too preoccupied to shut down the thought before it was fully formed.

Shaking his head, and muttering “…the fuck’s wrong with you Dean…” under his breath, he quickly felt for his friend’s pulse. It was weak but steady. Dean let out a breathe he'd been anxiously holding and rolled his shoulders, trying to ease some of the ache there and work the feeling back into arms that had been going numb for a good ten minutes now.

“What do you think?” asked Sam from the front seat, “Hospital?”

“No, not anywhere near here anyway. If I’m right that it’s the sheriff then we don’t want to make it that easy for him to track us.”

“We need to find him Dean.”

“We need to get Cas somewhere safe where we can monitor him first, make sure he’s definitely going to be okay.”

“If Cas was in the hospital and the sheriff came looking …”

“Are you seriously suggesting using the guy as bait? He’s half dead Sam!”

“Yeah, and taking him to a hospital helps ensure he doesn’t get _full_ dead Dean.”

Dean chewed his lip. He didn’t like the idea, but Sam was right — it did kill two birds with one stone. And it was a djinn they were dealing with, not some high-level demon or anything. They’d never hid from djinn before.

“Alright, we’ll take him to the hospital then. He probably does need a transfusion.”

Sam nodded and the Impala’s engine roared to life.

Dean checked Cas’ pulse and breathing again, then found himself sitting with the angel’s cheek once more cupped in his hand, staring at his friend’s sleeping face.

He’d found him. Dean had found in him time. But he still felt like an utter failure. And it wasn’t just about Cas getting hurt after Dean had let him walk out of the bunker and out of their lives.

How low were Cas’ batteries that a freakin’ djinn had gotten the jump on him? And Dean had sent Cas into literal hell just weeks ago.

He’d had no idea how bad things had gotten, but still, he’d known Cas wasn’t fully charged. What the hell had he been thinking? Sure he’d been pissed at Cas. And he’d wanted Cas to be pissed at him too, wanted to push him away. But the more he thought about it, the more unforgivable it felt. He’d told himself at the time that hell was nearly empty, that Belphegor needed them so Cas should be safe enough with the demon, that they’d all been in and out of hell enough times by now that it wasn’t that big of a deal.

But it was a big deal. A really big fucking deal.

_I’m so sorry Cas. Just please wake up so I can tell you how sorry I am, okay? For everything — for all the times I put you second, or third, or wherever. You can’t die not knowing how much you mean to me. How important you are._

Because that was the thing Dean was more painfully aware of than ever before. Cas was important. Cas was Sam-level important. And even if Cas never forgave him, Dean needed Cas in his life. He needed to know where Cas was, know he was safe.

He was never going to let him walk away again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Getting my momentum back on this one! The "Golden Time" events aren't quite wrapped up with Sheriff Roy still on the loose. Lots still to be said between Dean and Cas, and I plan to take this fic through at least the next episode, "Last Call." Thanks for sticking with me! Let me know what you think in the comments.


	5. I Miss My Friend

_But here we are  
After all the messes and confessions  
To the scars  
That we never really owned as ours_

_\- The Head and The Heart, “Honeybee”_

Dean did not like this plan.

Eileen was staking out the sheriff’s office from across the street. Sam, having ascertained that the sheriff was not at his home, was staking out the hospital. Dean was standing guard over Cas, though he was doing his best to look like just another worried loved one sitting at a patient’s bedside.

Which, when your best friend just almost died and you’re expecting their would-be-murderer to come walking through the door at any moment? Yeah, easier said than done.

“Castiel, I don’t know if you can hear this — you being unconscious and not having your grace and all. But if you can hear me, then please, just wake up man. I have so much I need to tell you. So much I need to apologize for. You can’t die not knowing how much you mean to me, Cas. You just can’t. Please, just wake up. Come back to me Cas.”

Dean knew it was almost definitely useless to be praying to Cas. But it couldn’t hurt. Plus, it made him feel a little better.

He’d never admit it to Cas or Sam, but he’d always liked knowing — after he met the angel — that there was someone listening to his prayers. Someone who actually gave a shit about him. It wasn’t about faith. He had lost that, if he ever even had it, long before he’d learned the truth about Chuck. It was more about knowing he was never completely alone in the world. Even when Cas didn’t come, Dean had known the angel still probably heard him. And that had been enough sometimes.

The doctors seemed pretty sure that Cas would wake up. His vitals were steady enough, he had a bag of O negative dripping into his arm, and he had expert medical care at a moment’s notice should anything with his condition change.

Dean should feel more relaxed by now. Except for the whole a-djinn-might-bust-in-any-time-now factor. And also the fact that, when Cas did wake up, Dean was not at all sure how the conversation was going to go.

For his part, he planned to apologize for anything and everything Cas needed him to apologize for. But would Cas accept those apologies? Could he forgive Dean? _If the guy has any sense, or any self-respect, he shouldn’t_ , thought Dean with no small amount of bitterness.

Then there was the other issue …

Cas being gone, Dean having so much time to do nothing but ruminate, then his panicked thoughts when he couldn’t find the angel … it had all brought certain feelings — ones that Dean had previously kept locked in a deep dark closet in his subconscious — up to the surface.

Dean was starting to accept, not the feelings themselves, but the fact that they did exist. If he was being honest with himself — which Dean generally made it a policy to try _not_ to do — those feelings had been there, albeit shoved very very far down, for a long time now. They were not platonic and _definitely_ not brotherly in nature.

Which he was pretty sure was big problem. Because Cas was an angel. Even as human as he now was, Cas didn’t simply cease being an angel who had lived for billions of years. He was a warrior, he was used to thinking of his fellow soldiers as family … so camaraderie, friendship, familial bonds — it made sense he’d feel and understand those things. But romantic feelings? For someone as damaged and as painfully human as Dean? Not likely.

The most important thing was to not lose Cas as a friend, _ever_. So Dean couldn’t risk broaching this particular subject with him, _ever_.

 _Could you imagine?_ thought Dean, _Just walk up to my best friend and say ‘Hey man! Glad you didn’t get murdered by that djinn. Oh, by the way, I’m starting to realize I maybe sort of am in love with you.’ That would go over_ so _well._

………

Cas slowly became aware of bright lights around him. Then a beeping sound entered his consciousness. But even after his eyes flickered open, it took him a solid minute to put two and two together and realize he was lying in a hospital bed.

A voice was saying something… He turned his head groggily, trying to get his eyes — currently squinted half shut against the harsh florescent hospital lighting — to focus on the source of the sound. Slowly, a face, relieved and anxious, came into focus.

“Dean?”

“Yeah, it’s me. You’re safe. Just, let me grab the nurse, have her check you out now that you’re back with us.”

Dean moved out of Cas’ line of sight and over to the door, where he leaned out and called down the hallway to the nurse’s station.

Cas meanwhile was still staring at the space the hunter had just vacated, trying to figure out what was going on.

Was he dead? No … that didn’t make sense. If he was dead, he’d be in the empty, not in heaven, so Dean shouldn’t be here.

Had Dean saved him? No, that didn’t make sense either. Dean hadn’t even known where he was. Neither had Sam. And there was no reason why Dean would have suddenly come looking for him. Unless maybe they needed his help with Chuck? Something had come up that they needed an angel, even one as weak as him, to accomplish? … Perhaps.

But Dean had seemed genuinely happy to see him wake up. None of the anger or accusation that Cas had grown used to recently had been detectable. Which Cas did not have an explanation for.

So maybe this was still a part of the djinn dream? Last thing he remembered he’d been curled up in bed with dream-Dean, wishing it was the real-Dean he was holding in his arms. How could he have gotten from there to a hospital with no knowledge of how it happened? Did time jump like this in djinn dreams? If it could, it was the first he was seeing it. But he hadn’t been in the dream for that long, so it was possible this was just the first he was experiencing the phenomenon?

Dean came back into Cas’ range of vision and settled himself into the chair by the bed.

“How are you feeling? You lost a lot of blood. Scared the shit out of me.”

“How … how’d I get here? We were at the cabin …”

Dean was giving him a confused look. “The cabin? You were in the old mine. Sam and me, and Eileen, we came and found you. The djinn got the jump on you somehow.”

“I know that. Wait … Eileen? Sam’s friend Eileen? I thought she was dead.” Cas was becoming more disoriented by the second.

“She, uh, got better. One-time thing. A spell Rowena was working on. Sam found it and finished it … anyway, that’s a story for another time. The djinn, do you know who it is? We’re thinking the sheriff, but we don’t know for sure.”

“Yes, that’s who I suspected as well. But Dean …”

Just then the nurse came bustling in, all cheery smiles to see Cas awake and talking. It was several minutes before they were alone again and able to continue the conversation. During that time, try as he might, Cas could not seem to figure out if this was a dream or if he truly was, in real life, propped up in this hospital bed with his friend beside him.

“Dean … is this still the dream?”

“What?” said Dean, his face taking on a stricken look.

 _Oh no,_ thought Cas. How many times had he already upset dream-Dean by explaining what was going on, and here he was, doing it again.

“No, no, it’s okay that it’s a dream, Dean. It’s okay, really.”

“Cas, this is not a dream. This is real. You are really here. We really saved you.”

“I know you saved me, Dean. I know because that’s what I would have wanted to have happen. It’s okay. Really.”

“Cas … why would I have _not_ saved you?”

“Well, in certain other plot lines, maybe you were mad at me? Maybe you needed someone to blame for at least some of the terrible things that God threw into your path? And that’s okay, Dean. Because that’s not the story here. So you don’t need to worry about it. You saved me. Everything is fine, really.”

“Cas, I …”

Dean seemed at a loss for words. And come to think of it … he hadn’t tried to kiss Cas in a while. Not once since Cas had woken up actually. _Oh…_

“Wait, this is real? Oh, Dean, I didn’t realize … I didn’t think …”

“Why the fuck wouldn’t this be real, Cas? Why is it so crazy to think I’d come to save you?”

“Dean, I…”

That was all Cas could get out before they were interrupted by Sheriff Roy coming through the door.

“Agent Worley. Agent Plant. Glad to see you found each other.”

“Sheriff Roy,” said Dean, his whole demeanor immediately shifting to one of polite professionalism. “Good to see you. You saved me a phone call actually. My partner here called me from a parking lot out in the national forest. Doesn’t know how he got there, but he’s back with us, safe and mostly sound.”

Dean was looking at Cas now, something like a plea in his eyes.

Cas’ brain spun, part screaming at him to run, part telling him to trust Dean, part just trying to figure out what the hell was going on.

“Um, yes. I’m sorry Sheriff Roy. I’m not really up to visitors just now. I’m still not sure what happened. Last thing I knew I was talking to a mother about her missing child. Then I woke up here.”

Cas gave the sheriff what he hoped was a sincere and serious nod.

“Of course, agent,” said Roy. “I don’t mean to disturb you while you’re recuperating. I was just so relieved to hear over the scanner that you’d been found. We were all worried, down at the station, after your partner came in looking for you.”

“Well thank you for checking in sheriff,” said Dean. “You’ll be the first on my list to call if Agent Worley remembers anything more. I’m afraid he’s been a bit confused. We haven’t gotten any useful leads at this point. Seems he was rather dehydrated. Might have had some blood loss even, though the doctors aren’t sure. It’s all a bit of a mystery currently.”

“Of course,” said Roy, “I’ll leave you to rest then Agent Worley. I hope you feel better soon. Do let me know if you start to remember anything more.”

Roy was already backing out the door, his face alternating between an expression of relief and suspicion, as Dean said goodbye.

 _How much could Dean guess based on what I’ve said,_ worried Cas. As the two men watched Roy move out of sight down the hallway, Cas resolved not to let his time in the djinn dream further damage whatever was left of his friendship with Dean.

 _If he knew…_ Cas shuddered.

“What is it?” asked Dean, “Are you cold?”

“No. No, I’m fine. Thank you,” replied Cas, stiffly.

………

Sam stared at the hospital’s back entrance, not looking away when his phone began to vibrate.

“Hey,” he said, answering the call that was sure to be from Dean.

“Hey. Roy just left. Scared the hell out of me. I hadn’t noticed your text come through warning me. Anyway, not sure he bought our story. But we threw him off balance at least. He should be headed back your way now.”

“Got it. Eileen and I will take it from here,” said Sam, glancing away from the hospital for a moment to smile at Eileen as she quietly crept up to join him.

He hung up and mouthed _Ready?_ She gave him a grin and a thumbs up.

Looking back towards the building Sam grinned as well and shook his head in amusement. Eileen was shockingly emotionally well-adjusted for someone who enjoyed the job as much as she did. He wondered, not for the first time, if that was a product of having wrapped up her personal revenge story neatly and cleanly. It wasn’t something he and Dean could relate to. Their “revenge” had merely opened the door to exponentially more grief. Some days it was hard to even remember where it all started. Things had been so simple when they thought their family story was just about the hunt for one demon.

He still hoped they could have a life after their long saga ended though, if it ever ended. Maybe a life with Eileen in it …

Roy came out the back entrance and moved swiftly towards his car. Conveniently, he had parked in a dark corner of the lot, far from security cameras or any other cars. Sam supposed that was the result of being a monster living among men. The urge to hide never quite went away. And right now, it worked very nicely in the hunters’ favor.

As Roy reached for his door handle, Sam leapt from behind the nearby dumpster and slashed his arm with the lamb’s blood coated knife. Roy let out a hiss, and suddenly his eyes glowed blue, as did the intricate patterns of tattoos that suddenly covered his skin.

That was the confirmation they’d needed. Eileen darted in from behind and sunk her own bloodied blade between Roy’s ribs and into his heart.

……..

An hour later, as Sam and Eileen waited for Roy’s body to finish burning, Sam recounted the dreams he’d been having — he and Dean killing each other, over and over again, each death bloodier than the last.

“Wow, Chuck really doesn’t like a happy ending, does he?” Eileen observed.

“No, I guess not,” said Sam, “I’m not even sure he’d know what one looked like.”

“Maybe that’s your answer,” replied Eileen, “Show him a happier, better way to finish the story.”

“You know,” said Sam, his voice growing thoughtful, “that’s a thought. If we could play it right. But what ending would be satisfying enough to change Chuck’s mind?”

They both stared silently into the dying flames. Neither had an answer.

………

Cas had fallen back asleep shortly after Roy left the hospital, the run in with his would-be killer having exhausted what little energy he’d regained.

Sitting by the bedside, watching his friend sleep, Dean had ample time to worry over what Cas’ reaction to being saved might mean.

 _Could he really think I wouldn’t come find him if I thought he was in trouble? Then again, I didn’t know that he was in trouble until I started looking for him. And I only did that because Sam pushed me into it. So maybe Cas is right to be skeptical_ , thought Dean, hating himself.

It seemed pretty clear to Dean, from the way that the angel had gotten all formal and quiet after realizing this was all really happening, that Cas was still pissed at him. Which Dean had to admit was fair. It stung like hell, but it was fair.

Dean wanted to take some solace at least in the fact that Cas had dreamed of him. When Dean had been under a djinn’s spell, he had dreamt of his family mostly whole … his mother alive, Sam engaged to Jess and finished with law school, him with a girlfriend, and apartment, and a real job — one that didn’t involve scamming credit card companies and ganking monsters.

It had been like Dean fell into his best case scenario life. So if the djinn spell worked the same for Cas, then that meant that Dean was at least a part of Cas’ dream life.

 _Hell of a lot of good that does me here in this life though_ , thought Dean.

 _Wonder what my dream life would look these days_. Sam would obviously be there, probably engaged to Eileen. They’d all live in the bunker together, and they’d only hunt run-of-the-mill monsters, no angel-demon-apocalypse shit. Nothing to do with Heaven, Hell, or Purgatory. Their Charlie would be alive again, and their Bobby. So would Mom. Jack would be just a regular teenager, alive and doing regular, if awkward, teenage things. And Cas … well Cas would obviously be there, living with them in the bunker, maybe even in Dean’s room …

Dean stopped his fantasy right there. It hurt too much to imagine all the people he loved together. To imagine himself that happy. Hell, Cas was right here and Dean couldn’t even find a way for the two of them to be happy together.

_If only there was a way to make him stick around so I could show him that things are different now. So that he’d have to let me make things right between us._

The doctor came into the room, the sound of the door opening waking Cas with a jolt.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you! The nurses told me your stats were looking really good, so I’m here to start the discharge process.”

“Already?” asked Dean, worried that this was too soon. It had only been maybe 10 hours since he’d carried Cas’ unconscious body into the ER. What kind of cut-rate insurance had Sam faked for Cas that had him getting kicked out of the hospital already?

“His red blood cell count is back up into a reasonable range. Other than the bruising on his wrists that you explained was, um, from certain … recreational interests he has” — at this point Cas hid his now red face in his hand, one eye peeking out to glare at Dean who had the decency to look abashed — “he seems to be just fine. I’m prescribing you an iron supplement, Agent Worley. And I strongly suggest you follow up with your regular doctor about this sudden, severe anemia. It’s really quite abnormal, I’m not sure how to explain it. But keeping you here another night isn’t going to bring us any more answers I’m afraid.”

………

And so they found themselves being bustled through the discharge procedures until, suddenly, Cas was sitting in a wheelchair being pushed out of the hospital by Dean.

As soon as they were through the sliding doors, Cas grabbed the chair’s wheels, skidding it to a halt. “I can walk by myself.”

Dean stopped, holding the chair steady as Cas got to his feet and quickly realized he may have spoken too soon. The edges of his vision darkened and his head spun. The floor was getting closer at an alarming rate.

Then a pair of strong arms encircled him, stopping his fall. Cas leaned heavily into Dean, into his warmth and the familiarity of his smell, so unlike the sterile hospital scents they had just left behind. He rested his head on a flannel clad shoulder as the world slowly stopped spinning.

“Yeah, you can definitely walk by yourself,” said Dean, his chuckle vibrating through his chest to Cas’ cheek, which was pressed firmly against the hunter.

Dean’s voice broke Cas out of his moment of reverie. He pulled sharply away and nearly fell all over again. “Hey, sorry, I didn’t mean anything by it,” said Dean, looking hurt as he caught Cas by the elbow to stabilize his friend.

“My apologies. I may have, uh, overestimated my current ability to be vertical.”

“No worries dude.”

They made their way to the Impala with Dean providing the least amount of support necessary to keep Cas on his feet.

“Where’s Sam?” asked Cas as soon as he was seated safely in the front passenger seat of the classic car. Normally he’d relish a long ride with Dean, especially a rare one where he got to sit in the front and share the long bench seat with the hunter. But today he struggled to keep the worry out of his voice. After his dream, being this close to Dean and having this little space separating them felt dangerous to Cas. It would be so easy to scoot a little closer …

 _Can’t think about that_ , Cas admonished himself.

“Sam and Eileen are already on their way back to the bunker,” said Dean, “Sam said to tell you he’s sorry he couldn’t visit you in the hospital. With him taking out the sheriff, we figured it was best if he didn’t show up on the security cameras. But don’t worry about your car. Sam’s driving it back, and Eileen’s driving back the one they brought out here.”

“Oh,” said Cas, hoping he didn’t sound too disappointed. He didn’t want Dean to think it was about Sam not waiting by his bedside. He knew Sam had more important things to be doing. And he _really_ didn’t want Dean wondering why Cas was reluctant to be alone with him in the car.

“Well, so, I was thinking,” said Dean, sounding crestfallen for some reason, “we could swing past your cabin, grab your stuff, then maybe stop at the bait shop on the way out of town?”

“The bait shop?”

“Yeah. Your friend there, he seemed worried about you.”

Cas smiled a bit at that. He hadn’t thought anyone would even notice when he’d disappeared into the djinn’s lair.

“Alright then,” said Cas, the final word breaking into a yawn. _Why am I so tired_ , he wondered. He knew his grace was waning, but this exhaustion felt downright, well … human.

“And, uh, there’s another thing. Something you should know,” Dean was almost stammering now as he reached into his pocket and pulled out a faintly shining vial.

Cas had to remind himself to breathe.

“That’s … my grace.”

“Yeah, we found it in the djinn’s cave. Sam’s theory is that the djinn needed you to be human for your blood to be useful so he siphoned off the last of your grace.”

“I suppose that makes sense. It would explain why the spell worked so effectively on me.”

“Cas …” Dean began. He seemed to be having trouble forming his next words.

“There’s even less than I thought,” said Cas, interrupting the silence.

“Why didn’t you tell me it was this bad.” Dean’s voice was quiet.

“I tried to, many times Dean. But you didn’t want to hear it.”

The hunter closed his eyes, his knuckles white as his hand tightened around the small crystal bottle.

“When the last of it burnt out, what was going to happen?”

Dean was looking out the window now, avoiding Cas’ steady gaze.

“I would have ceased to be.”

Dean swallowed, nodded one small, tight nod, and shoved the vial back into his pocket. His tone was flat as he replied, “Good thing Sam wouldn’t let me put it back in you then.”

Case pinched the bridge of his nose. He tried to sort through his feelings as the car rumbled to life and backed out of the parking space. His emotions were all so … loud, now that he was human again. Which just made him more anxious about the drive — and the days — ahead.

They drove in silence for a few minutes before Dean spoke again. “Will you be okay now?”

Cas, whose thoughts had been elsewhere, answered with a puzzled “What?”

“With your grace out. Is it … stable or whatever?”

“Yes. But Dean … I’m human now.”

“Is that so bad?” asked Dean. And Cas was surprised to see, instead of the offended look he might have expected to accompany these words, that Dean looked … a little desperate?

“I won’t be as useful to you and Sam,” Cas replied, “as a human.”

Dean let out a ragged breath and rubbed his hand over his jaw. “For Christ’s sake Cas, in the future, just assume that Sam and I would prefer you alive over you dead. Period. Okay?”

It was a pretty low bar, but Cas couldn’t help the feeling a warmth that bloomed in his chest. Dean pulled up to Cas’ cabin, his face looking stormy now. _What is he thinking about?_ Cas wondered, before saying, “To be honest, after you sent me into hell with Belphegor, I wasn’t sure.”

Dean froze for a moment then looked at Cas with something in his eyes that Cas wasn’t sure how to read. “I’m so sorry Cas,” Dean said softly, the words gentle though his voice was rough with an emotion Cas couldn’t decipher. “I was angry, and I was pushing you away. But I never should have sent you there. Not with him.”

Cas smiled. This was more than he could have let himself hope for. Before he realized what he was doing he’d reached out and placed a hand on Dean’s shoulder. Almost as though the hunter had been waiting for a sign that it was okay, he leaned across the bench seat wrapped Cas in a hug with both arms. “I missed you Cas.”

Even as Cas raised his other arm to return the hug, he could feel his body stiffen. _This is really happening … isn’t it?_ He tried to calculate the right pressure in his arms to convey friendly camaraderie without suggesting anything intimate. It felt awkward, and Dean seemed to register that as well. He pulled back, his face once again unreadable. Though Cas almost thought he saw a glint of hurt in hunter’s face before he gave Cas a tight smile, opened the door, and stepped out of the car.

As the door shut, Cas said softly, “I missed you too, Dean.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back! I will finish this, I promise. Life has been even more chaotic than usual. Hopefully with the kids' school year underway now things will fall into a bit more of a routine soon and I'll have more headspace available for Dean and Cas. I had planned to have more apologies in this chapter but the boys were telling me they just weren't ready yet for too deep of a heart to heart. They'll get there though. Next up in the story, a canon-divergent AU "Last Call."


	6. Missed Connection

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two chapters in one week to make up for the long break! Might even be able to give you a third this week. :) Oh, and I added new tags...

_If I never come through  
Yes it haunts me  
Sunny days I'd miss you  
Yes it haunts me_

_First you see it, then you feel it, now I'm caught  
And we're making our own thing  
Now I'm following you out to the coast  
If I never come through  
If I never come through_

_-The Head and the Heart, “Missed Connection”_

“Sam?” Dean called out as he walked into the bunker, rolling out neck and shoulders stiff from the long drive.

It had been an awkward but mercifully largely silent ride back from Idaho. After they’d stopped by the bait shop so Cas could say goodbye to his friend, the former angel had moved to the back seat and slept for much of the way. They hadn’t broached any personal topics since that strange hug in the Impala.

 _Stupid fucking thing to do_ , thought Dean. It had just felt so good to hold Cas. So reassuring. But Cas’ reaction … it had hit Dean like a punch in the gut. Maybe things really had shifted permanently between them. Yes, Cas was back at the bunker, but he was so reserved. Their friendship, or whatever it was that was between them, seemed as broken as Dean had feared.

“Hey Dean,” said Sam coming around the corner and giving Dean a quick clasp on the shoulder before moving past him to Cas, who Sam wrapped in one of his smothering sasquatch hugs.

“Sam,” said Cas warmly, returning the hug. “It’s good to see you.”

“It’s good see you too, awake that is. You gave us a scare there.”

Dean watched the reunion, schooling his face into as close to a neutral expression as he could manage when his heart felt like someone was squeezing it in their fist. _So it’s definitely me then. Cas has no problem hugging Sam._

Dean turned and walked to his room, not trusting himself to remain composed in front of the warm reunion. Much to his chagrin, his eyes were starting to feel a bit damp.

He shook his head. _This is what you wanted Dean. Better to have him alive and distant than close and dead._

Coming around the corner, he nearly collided with Eileen, who gave Dean a sharply appraising look, before smiling and greeting him with a “Hey, Dean.”

“Oh, h-hey,” stammered Dean, “just uh, going to my room.” He hurried past her. _Shit_ , just what he needed. She’d probably tell Sam that Dean was walking around looking like a heartbroken teenager.

What Dean needed, he decided, was some fresh air, a change of scenery, and maybe something he could kill. A hunt would be just the thing to clear his mind and get his game face back on.

………

Sam was just finishing his recounting of the djinn hunt when Eileen joined him and Cas in the map room.

“You must be Eileen. I was happy to hear of your resurrection,” said Cas, extending a hand. Eileen shook it with a smile.

“Nice to meet you,” she answered, “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

Turning to Sam, the smile left her face. “Is Dean okay? I just saw him in the hallway. He looked upset.”

“What? Why?” asked Cas, startled. True, when Cas wasn’t sleeping he had noticed that Dean had been quiet on the way here, as though his mind was somewhere else. But he hadn’t seemed actively distressed, had he?

“Dean’s been going through a bit of rough time,” Sam explained. The three sat down at the table, as Sam caught Cas up on the revelations that Chuck was still active and that Lilith was back on the board, as well as filling him in on Dean’s reaction.

“I haven’t seen him that messed up since the whole Michael possession thing. And even then, it wasn’t like this. He was at least still doing the job, going through the motions. The last few weeks though, he as so down I thought he wouldn't get back up again.”

“Sam, I had no idea. I should have been here.”

“No, Cas. I don’t think there was much you could have done. Dean needed to work through it himself. And honestly, saving me and then searching for you, it gave him a reason to get out of bed. But … do you know what’s bothering him now? Did something happen on the drive?”

Cas could guess the unspoken question, _Did you two have another fight?_

“No, it was quite uneventful,” he answered truthfully.

“Okay, well … Eileen and I are going to pick up some pizza and beer, celebrate you being back home,” Cas felt a wave of warmth at the word, “and then after dinner, we had some ideas about the Chuck situation that we wanted to run by you and Dean. You are staying, right? Because you know, it didn’t feel the same without you Cas. And Dean will probably never say it, but I know he feels the same. We want you here.”

“Yes, of course I’ll stay if that’s what you both want. Nothing would make me happier,” said Cas with a relieved smile.

Sam let out a relieved breath and smiled broadly. “Good.”

He and Eileen headed to the garage while Cas wondered into the library, idly picking up a book from one of the tables and flipping through the pages without actually registering the words or images.

He’d thought his leaving was for the best. Dean had been so stuck in his anger and guilt, and Cas had assumed his presence was nothing more than a reminder of those they’d lost.

Cas had seen Dean brought low before, had seen him lose all hope. The memory of his fists pummeling Dean an alley made the newly human man flinch. But Sam was right. Dean had never simply laid down and quit before. Even when he’d been planning to seal himself in the Ma’lak box with Michael, he’d been making an active choice. Cas had worried deeply about Dean then, and many many times before. But there was an all-consuming urgency to the worry now that he was human that he simply wasn’t used to.

Dean was the bravest human Cas’d ever known in all of his long life. The hunter’s strength of will had bested both heaven and hell. To imagine him so utterly defeated shook Cas to the core.

Things seemed okay between him and Dean now. Or at least they were headed in that direction, he hoped. He’d stay and do whatever he could, whatever was in his limited humanly power, to ensure Dean didn’t despair again.

He’d wanted — above all else this last, long decade — to see Dean happy and safe. Nothing had changed that mission. Nothing ever would.

……..

“You want the last slice?” asked Sam.

“Sure,” said Dean, grabbing the last of the meat lover’s pizza. It wasn’t often that Sam agreed to order what he called ‘the cholesterol special,’ and tonight Dean hadn’t even had to ask him to!

Dean took another bite of cheese laden perfection and made a noise that, had his eyes not been closed in satisfaction, he might have noticed made Cas blush for some reason …

He might also have noticed Sam and Eileen each smothering a laugh as they _did_ notice both the sound and the blush.

Instead, it was Sam clearing his throat that broke Dean out of his pizza induced reverie.

“So, Eileen and I have been talking about Chuck, and about the visions I’ve been having of his various ‘endings’ — Dean and I killing each other in every possible way. And we were thinking … what if we gave him a different ending. You know, like, if we could show him a happy ending that was just as satisfying — maybe even more so.”

“What kind of ending would possibly satisfy that sadist other than a bloody one?” Dean asked, mouth still full of his final bite of pizza. Sam, to his credit, didn’t even grimace as he explained.

“Well, that’s what we were stuck on too. So after we got back to the bunker I decided to consult with an expert.”

“What sort of expert?” Dean asked skeptically before swallowing.

“A prophet?” guessed Cas.

“No, not a prophet. A _Supernatural_ expert.”

Dean groaned. “Becky? Seriously? Drugged you and forced you to marry her against your will Becky?”

Now it was Sam’s turn to blush. Eileen coughed, choking on her last swallow of beer. Dean thumped her on her back. Still, it took her a minute before she could get out, “You didn’t tell me that part.”

“It’s, uh, a story for another time,” said Sam, who had gone an even deeper shade of red. “Back to the topic at hand, I tried to call Becky, but she didn’t answer her phone. Chuck did.”

“What?” asked Dean and Cas simultaneously, both sitting up straighter in their chairs.

“We’re not sure what it means. I hung up immediately. Fortunately I was using a new burner — I didn’t want Becky to have one of my primary numbers, for obvious reasons — and I smashed it right away. But anyway, Chuck went to a fanfiction writer and expert for some reason. So I think it might actually lend credence to the theory Eileen and I have been working on. You see, when we couldn’t reach Becky, we started doing some research.”

“What kind of research?” Dean was getting more and more suspicious and uncomfortable by the minute. _Damn meat lover’s pizza should have been a tip off right away_ , he thought.

“Fanfiction research,” answered Sam. “We were trying to determine what plot lines were most popular in the _Supernatural_ fandom. And, not really surprisingly, romance plots were particularly popular.”

“They call them ‘slash’ fiction,” Eileen interjected helpfully.

“Wait … no way Sammy. We are not pretending to be an item,” sputtered a panicking Dean, remembering their previous — and quite unsettling — findings when exploring the _Supernatural_ fandom.

“No no no,” Sam practically yelled. “That’s _NOT_ what we were going to suggest.”

“Good,” said Dean, relieved.

“Anyway, that isn’t the most popular slash fiction in _Supernatural_ anymore. Not by a long shot. It’s actually Dean/Cas that came up the most.”

Both of the men in question stared at Sam. Both were at a total loss for words.

“They call it Destiel,” chimed in Eileen. “There were way more love stories about you two in the recent stories than all the other types combined. WAY more.”

Castiel found his voice first, “What are you suggesting Sam?”

Sam scratched the back of his head, his face getting somehow even redder than before. He took a deep breath, then explained, “I’m suggesting that maybe, if this plot line appeals to so many people who are fans of Chuck’s writing, then maybe it would do something for Chuck too.”

“You want Cas and me to pretend to be a couple,” said Dean flatly.

“Yeah, that’s the idea.”

“Sam, I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Cas quickly said. “I don’t think it would work out the way you want, if Dean and I tried to pretend … that.”

Dean felt like his blood had suddenly frozen. He’d been thinking basically the same thing, but to hear it stated so firmly and quickly by Cas … it felt like he’d just been dumped by someone he’d never even been in a relationship with.

Now was probably the time Sam would be expecting him to crack a joke, ask Cas indignantly what was so wrong with him anyway. But he couldn’t because he already knew all too well everything that was wrong with him. He knew how ridiculous of an idea it was that Cas could possibly love him that way … the way that Dean was finally ready to admit to himself that he loved Cas.

So instead Dean just stared at his feet, completely missing the look of comprehension and then sympathy that crossed Sam’s face.

“Yeah,” said Sam quietly. “Yeah, I guess it was a dumb idea after all. Forget I mentioned it.”

“Will do,” said Dean, standing up and exiting the room, though not before he’d grabbed another beer from the fridge. He was even more glad that he’d found a possible hunt now. He’d get the Impala packed tonight while Sam was distracted by Eileen and then leave first thing in the morning. But first he’d drink this beer, and maybe swing by the library to grab a bottle of something harder too.

………

The next morning, after making some excuses about taking a drive, Dean poured a thermos of coffee for himself, said goodbye to Sam and Eileen, and walked toward the garage. His head was pounding. He’d maybe overdone it with the whisky the night before.

Sam jogged to catch up with him. “Hey, Dean, are you sure you’re okay? Cause last night you seemed sort of, um, upset? After Cas shot down that idea Eileen and I had?”

“Sam, I’m good, really I am. I know I’ve been off my game majorly lately. That’s why I just need to get out of the bunker, on my own. Clear my head a bit.”

“That’s really all this is?”

“Yeah, and anyway, you and Eileen? You’re having fun. I don’t want to spoil that.”

“Dean, you wouldn’t…”

“Yeah, I would Sam. I’m not going to pretend I’m in a good place right now, okay? Just, let me go get some air, hit up a bar or two. I’ll be easier to live with when I get back.”

“Alright. Eileen and I do have some stuff to do anyway.”

“Yeah, I bet you do,” interrupted Dean with a sly grin.

“No … I … I don’t mean like that Dean.”

“Uh-huh, sure Sammy. Just, you know, put a sock on the door knob so I know not to barge in and interrupt when I get back.”

He walked away, chuckling, leaving Sam burning red and tripping over an indignant response in the hallway behind him.

Everything he’d said to Sam had been technically true. He did need to clear his head, and he definitely needed to get out of the bunker for a while. He also really didn’t want to spoil whatever was brewing between Eileen and Sam. He hadn’t seen the guy this happy in so long. If one of them had any chance to grab a little joy amid the dumpster fire that their lives had turned into with the Chuck revelations, then Dean was going to make sure Sam had a fair shot at it.

If Sam hadn’t been nursing a hangover of his own, he would have pressed Dean further about where exactly he was going, which would have seriously compromised Dean’s plan to give Sam and Eileen some space — and to get some for himself. It was a lucky thing Sam and Eileen had overdone it themselves last night with margaritas. Sam was just too damn perceptive. Like that comment about how Dean had been “upset” last night … He wondered how much Sam had noticed or guessed at. Given how hopeless Dean’s own situation was, he’d prefer Sam not know anything about it at all.

And if Dean hadn’t been so hungover he probably would have noticed Cas in the passenger seat before he slid in the driver’s side door. As it was, Dean jumped so hard he hit his head on the roof and sloshed hot coffee over his hand.

“Dammit Cas, what the hell?” he shouted, shaking his stinging hand.

“You’re going on a hunt. Am I correct? If so, I’m coming with you.”

“Like hell you are,” growled Dean, “Get out of my car!”

“No,” said Cas simply, leaning back into his seat and glaring at Dean.

Dean stared at him, mouth slightly agape in shock. Was this seriously happening?

“You are not coming with me Cas. You’re barely out of the hospital, you don’t have your grace, so no, you’re staying here and resting.”

Cas narrowed his eyes. “You’re acting strangely, sneaking off on a solo hunt that I’m willing to bet you did not tell Sam about, and just coming out of what sounds like a period of deep melancholy, so no Dean, I am not staying here. You will allow me to be your back up. And for the record, I may not have my grace but I am still a trained fighter with extensive knowledge of the supernatural surpassing even your own. I am more than capable of being of use to you.”

“That’s not…” Dean began before stuttering to a halt. He tried again, “I never said you weren’t useful Cas. I just said you need to rest some more, okay? It’s not just that your angel batteries are drained. You’re not even at human 100% right now, not after that much blood loss just two days ago.”

“I’ll be fine, Dean. I am not a child who you can tell to stay behind. I am a millennia old being who can and will make my own choices.” With that, Cas broke his stare. “Now, where are we going.”

“Cas…”

“If you continue to insist I get out of the car I am not above calling Sam to tell him what you’re really doing Dean.”

“Seriously?”

“Seriously.”

“Argh, fine. But I don’t even know for sure if this is a hunt, or if it is, what the hell it might be that we’re hunting, okay?”

“All the more reason to not go alone.”

Dean fumed silently as they drove down the highway. A few days ago he would have given anything to have Cas willingly sitting by his side. But that was before the guy had begun flinching every time Dean touched him. Before he had found a way to reject Dean without Dean ever having even made a goddamn move.

This drive felt exactly like what Dean imagined sitting next to an ex after a very recent and very bad breakup would be like.

He wasn’t even mad at Cas really so much as he was angry at himself. Cas was here. He was sticking around, and that should be enough. It was Dean who was messing things up, yet again.

“Dean?” said Cas, interrupting Dean’s spiraling thoughts.

“Yeah Cas?”

“I wanted to say … just … thank you. For coming to find me in Idaho. I know how angry you were at me, and it meant a lot to me that you’d come search for me like that. And I don’t think you heard me, in the car the other day, that I missed you too. A lot.”

And just like that, Dean felt his anger melting.

“I’d never not come find you if I thought you needed me Cas. No matter how angry we get with each other. You’re my best friend. You’re my brother.”

“Brothers … yes,” said Cas. Dean wondered if he imagined the faint tone of — was it resignation? — in Cas’ voice.

They drove the rest of the way to Texhoma, Texas mostly in silence, but at least it was a slightly more comfortable silence than before.

When they arrived, their first stop was at the County Sheriff’s office, though their conversation with Sheriff Dillon yielded little that was of use other than where they might find the only witness to the victim’s sudden and mysterious disappearance.

After six hours in the car with Cas, Dean needed to clear his head more than ever. He was debating the pros and cons of splitting up for the next phase of the investigation — pro, some much needed breathing room for Dean; con, a newly human Cas hunting on his own — as they pulled up to the town’s only motel.

Inside, Dean found himself facing yet another curveball.

“You don’t have _any_ doubles available?” Texhoma was seriously middle of nowhere. What the fuck could have practically the _entire_ motel filled up on a Tuesday night?

“Sorry, but no. Just the one single. The local roadhouse, Swayze’s, is real popular round these parts. Folks drive from all over for the live music and whatnot there, especially for two-for-Tuesday. Some of them plan ahead and book a room so they have someplace local to crash. You’re lucky I even have the one single actually. Just had a cancellation.”

“Alright, we’ll take it,” said Dean, unable to keep the frustration out of his voice. Could anything about this hunt go _less_ like he’d planned?

He and Cas carried their bags into the room and looked at the single bed. “I’ll sleep on the floor,” offered Dean, “You’re still recuperating.”

“No, I insist Dean, you take the bed.”

“Listen Cas, you’re not used to being human yet. I don’t think you realize how sore you’ll be in the morning …”

Cas cut Dean off, “It’s not my first time being human Dean. And I have plenty of experience sleeping on hard floors as one.”

“What?” asked Dean, caught off guard by the comment. They didn’t talk much about when Cas had been human before. The subject made Dean feel guilty as hell so he never brought it up. And Cas had never seemed very eager to talk about that period of his life either. “What do you mean you have ‘plenty of experience’ sleeping on floors?”

Cas stiffened, seeming to realize he’d let more slip in his remark than he’d intended to. “I was human and on my own for the first time ever. I took me quite a while to find a way to access money, and even then, lodging is expensive. It was more economical to sleep on the floor in the Gas N’ Sip store room.”

Dean stared at him, trying to process this information. Of course he’d known that Cas must have been homeless for a little while. But Cas was, well, Cas. He’s smart and resourceful and tough as hell, er, heaven. Dean had just believed he’d find a way to get by. He’d had to believe that, when the alternative was helping Cas and alienating the angel who was keeping Sam alive.

“Cas I … I’m sorry …”

“You have nothing to apologize for Dean. I did a perfectly adequate job caring for myself then, and I can now as well. I will not be burden to you or to Sam. You take the bed.”

Cas’ tone was sharp, which didn’t help quell the anger that was once again swelling up inside Dean. How could he have been so willfully blind to what Cas must have suffered during those long months as a human? How could it have taken until now for him to realize just how badly he’d hurt his friend? _I need a fucking drink_.

“Listen, how about you go talk to Angela’s family. Hear from them whether or not they think the Sheriff is right, that Angela might have just run off in search of brighter lights and bigger things. I’ll go check out this bar, Swayze’s, and see if Angela’s friend Sally shows up.”

“Yes, I can do that,” said Cas, and he walked out of the room without looking back.

Dean sighed. Cas was the only person besides Sam who could take him from zero to ten like this. _What else can go wrong?_ he wondered.

Dean grabbed his coat and headed out the door as well. Fifteen minutes later he was walking into Swayze’s, where an attractive brunette collected his cell phone, explaining it was the roadhouse policy.

Looking around, Dean’s gaze swept over the stage and then quickly back as he did a double take. _It can’t be…_ He was sure he was imagining things. But as the song ended and the singer stepped down from the stage, Dean was more and more sure.

“Lee Webb,” he said striding up to the man, who turned and gave Dean the same sort of double take.

“Dean Fuckin’ Winchester,” Lee responded. The two men exchanged a tense stare before Lee smiled and pulled Dean into a warm hug, clapping him on the back. “I’ll be damned, man. Come in here.”

“The hell are you doing here?”

“The hell am I doing here? I own this joint! What are you doing here?”

“Working a case,” Dean replied, still only half willing to believe his eyes.

“Dean Winchester,” said Lee, looking Dean over like he couldn’t trust his eyes either. “Unbelievable. Hey, Lorna? Lorna! Can we get a couple of beers for me and my ... and my boy here?” Lee shouted over the crowd, then turning to Dean, “You got time, right?”

“ **Always**.”

“Well alright then, let’s sit on down. We got a hell of a lot of catching up to do.”

“You really own the place?”

“Sure do.”

“It’s been too long. I must have been … yeah, 26. I mean hell, I thought you were …” Dean trailed off.

“Dead?” asked Lee. “Yeah, I kind of assumed you probably were too. That’s how it usually goes.”

“But you got out man, that’s … that’s great!”

“Remember that last hunt we did together? That cult thing in Arizona?”

“Yeah,” said Dean, taking another drink and shuddering. “Yeah that one was … what happened to those kids … it was hard to forget.”

“I know what you mean,” said Lee quietly, then, continuing in a normal voice, “Well, I did one more case after that, right around here, and I decided that wasn't the life for me anymore. I scrounged up what I could, and I bought this joint. Living the dream.”

“You sure are,” said Dean smiling a genuinely happy smile for the first time all day. “Lee Fucking Webb. Giving up the life. Never thought I’d see that.”

“So tell me,” said Lee, his voice getting cautious. “How’s the old man?”

“He uh, he died, actually. It’s been, 13 years ago now. But he died doing what he loved, what he was good at. And he went out on a big win. So, you know …”

“I’m sorry Dean. I know how close you two were.”

“Yeah, thanks, I uh, I appreciate that, I do. You know, he always liked you. In fact, he said that he'd rarely seen anybody better in a fight, and that was high praise coming from my old man.”

“Yeah, he liked me just fine until that last night,” said Lee gruffly with a shake of his head.

“Look man, I’m sorry. I know you were as messed up as I was about what we’d seen on that hunt. I should have called you after …”

“Should have called me? Dean, you changed your damn phone number.”

“Wasn’t my idea, man. You know what he could be like.”

“Yeah, I do. And I know life wasn’t easy for you back then. Let’s not dwell on it, okay?” Lee stared at Dean, he eyes going soft with wonder. “I’m just so fucking happy to see you Dean, alive and in the flesh after all this time.” Slapping Dean on the leg, he added in a lighter tone, “Come on, have another drink, they’re on me, all night.”

“You trying to get me drunk Lee?”

“Maybe,” Lee responded with a coy grin, “You going to let me?”

Dean had a brief moment of fleeting guilt as he thought of Cas. But Cas wasn’t here right now, probably wouldn’t even want to be here with Dean right now. Not the way Dean wanted anyway. So he smiled back at Lee and replied, with a slow, patented-Dean-Winchester-grin, “Maybe I will.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So tell me I'm not the only one that was picking up serious sexual tension between Dean and Lee in that episode. Totally unacknowledged as always, but also totally there! Next chapter is actually mostly written. I'm on a roll; I've been looking forward to writing these scenes. I'll try to get that one up in the next few days. The new tags can give some extra foreshadowing in the meantime.


	7. Losing What You Never Had

_Lost myself in this maze  
Yes it haunts me  
Felt it slipping sideways  
Yes it haunts me _

_But I see it and I feel it in my soul  
Is there something I'm missing?  
Should I follow this wherever it goes?  
I will always come through  
I will always come through_

_-The Head and the Heart, “Missed Connection”_

It was a long walk from the house rented by Angela Sullivan’s sister to Swayze’s … especially since Cas took a detour to stop by B’s Sugar Bar on the way — the bar Angela had disappeared from — before swinging past the motel to change into the t-shirt, flannel, and jeans that Dean had told him earlier he could wear.

Being human again, Cas supposed he’d need to buy some clothing eventually. He’d ask Sam if he could use one of the brothers’ cards. Or maybe he’d ask him to show him how they managed to get the cards to begin with. The revelations about Chuck had pretty much torn down the last of Cas’ moral scruples about small sins like fraud.

In the meantime, he liked wearing Dean’s clothes. They were a little big on him, but they carried Dean’s familiar scent. When he ran his fingers over the old, worn flannel, Cas could almost imagine it was Dean he was touching. All in all, wearing the other man’s clothing was, in fact, rather thrilling…

Cas, shook his head. He shouldn’t be thinking about Dean that way. It just made things harder to bear, in the long run. And he couldn’t afford mistakes right now, not with Dean so on edge ever since their drive back from Idaho.

Cas badly wanted their friendship to just go back to how it had been. He’d forgive Dean anything just to have things feel _easy_ between them again. But, despite his efforts to be respectful of what Dean called his “personal space,” Cas seemed to just be getting on the other man’s nerves.

Sam had said Dean wanted Cas to stay but…could he have perhaps been mistaken?

Cas sighed. It was a problem for another time. For now, he focused on reviewing what he had learned about the case.

Angela’s sister confirmed that, contrary to the Sheriff’s assertions, she didn’t believe Angela would run off to Hollywood, or anywhere else, without telling anyone. Though her duffel bag and some clothes were missing from her apartment, the sister felt the items were somewhat random — a dress Angela hadn’t worn in ages was missing, a favorite sweater was left behind.

And no one at B’s had seen anything … though as it turned out Angela wasn’t the first person to leave town after last being seen there. It made sense. The bar was a bit outside of town, no other buildings around, no traffic cameras. It would be a good place to abduct someone without drawing attention.

 _Hopefully Dean has had more luck_ , thought Cas as he walked into Swayze’s. He handed a brunette woman his cell phone, after quickly double checking that he had no messages from Dean. He’d barely had a chance to scan the room when he froze. Cas recognized that voice.

Looking up at the stage he was stunned to see Dean Winchester singing a duet with another man, a man he seemed to know quite well … the stranger smacked Dean’s ass and Dean just let it slide with a laugh and a “hey now!”

 _What on earth is going on?_ Cas wondered, watching in shocked silence as Dean walked off the stage with the other man, whose arm was now slung familiarly over Dean’s shoulder. Dean was _not_ the type to allow strange men to drape an around him. He barely allowed male acquaintances even a fraction of the physical intimacy he was now displaying with this other man.

Cas walked quickly over to the woman with the cell phone basket. “Excuse me, um …”

“Lorna,” she supplied with a smile, “What can I help you with handsome?”

“Could you tell me, who was the man up on stage a moment ago, singing?”

“You mean Lee? Or his friend? Lee is the owner is this bar, and does a fair amount of the singing in it when he gets a mind to. And the other fellow I guess is an old buddy of his.”

“Yes, he’s a … friend of mine, the other man, Dean.”

“Well come on over and join them! I’ll get you a beer,” said Lorna, grabbing Cas’s hand and pulling him over to the table where Dean was sitting — a bit closer than seemed normal — to Lee.

“Hey Cas!” said Dean, smiling up at him, clearly a bit intoxicated. Which, given Dean’s drinking abilities, meant he’d overindulged quite a bit more than he usually would during an active hunt.

“Dean,” said Cas, sitting down across from the two men.

“Lee, this is my friend Cas. He’s working the job with me here.”

“How ya’ doin’ Cas?” drawled Lee, reaching out to shake Cas’ hand, “Any friend of Dean’s is a friend of mine.”

“Lee and I used to work the occasional job together, back when Sammy was in college and I was working with my dad,” said Dean by way of explanation.

“Always nice to meet a fellow hunter,” said Cas with a nod.

“Oh, I’m not in that life anymore,” said Lee.

“Yes, I heard. Lorna told me you owned this bar,” replied Cas.

“That’s right,” said Lee before smiling at Dean, who smiled warmly back.

Cas knew the feeling that exploded inside him, but he was unprepared for the intensity of it. Jealousy. He did _not_ like Dean looking at another man like that … he hadn’t even known Dean _did_ look at other men like that.

“Well, now that Cas is here we should probably get back to business,” said Dean, “I haven’t told you why exactly we’re in town. You ever see her around here?”

Dean pulled out a newspaper clipping with Angela’s picture on it, and slid it over the table to Lee, their fingers brushing for just the briefest moment … but not brief enough to escape Cas’ notice.

Cas’ heart sank to his feet.

“Hmm, no, I don’t think so,” said Lee, just as Lorna walked up behind him with a glass for Cas and another pitcher of beer for the table.

“That's Angela, Lee. She's in here all the time,” said Lorna

“Wait,” replied Lee, “Is this the girl that doesn't drink that much?

“That's the one,” said Lorna, with a nod.

“But her friend?”

“Like a fish.” Lorna rolled her eyes a bit and then smiled at the three men before walking away.

Lee turned back to Dean, “What are you doing, man? You're chasing missing persons? I thought you'd be on to something bigger by now, like the Loch Ness Monster... Bigfoot.”

“Trust me, uh, bigger doesn't always equal better. Besides, who's gonna look out after the little guy? God certainly isn't,” muttered Dean, glowering into his glass.

“Damn, man, that's dark.”

“Yeah, it's, uh... it's been a rough decade, Lee,” said Dean, before downing the rest of his beer.

“Yeah?” said Lee, inviting Dean to tell him more.

Dean shook his head, “That’s a conversation for a different time, 'cause this, this right here, this is all right.”

“Well, I'm glad you approve. This is nothing you can't have, man.”

At this, Cas cleared his throat, reminding both men that he was there.

“Actually, Lee, Dean has done quite a lot of good in the past decade. He’s saved a lot of people. More than any other hunter alive.”

“I don’t doubt it,” said Lee, “all the more reason why he deserves an actual retirement. Leave the hunting to the next generation, you know?”

“Seriously,” said Dean, his good mood evaporating, “let’s change the conversation.”

 _Damn it_ , thought Cas. He’d wanted to cheer Dean up and he’d only made him more sad. “I liked the song,” he offered instead, “the one you were singing together. Dean, I had no idea you were that melodic. Your singing in the shower suggested otherwise.”

Lee choked on his beer a little. Dean’s face burned pink.

“You’ve, uh, heard Dean sing in the shower, huh?” asked Lee as he caught his breath.

“From outside the door,” Dean clarified. “You know, sharing hotels to save money. That’s all.”

“Ah, okay then,” said Lee, giving Dean a small, relieved smile.

“Anyway, the song,” said Dean, turning back to Cas. “It’s one my dad used to like to play before hunts.”

That segued Dean and Lee into a long story about antics they’d gotten into on one particular hunt and John’s often frustrated but mostly amused reactions.

Cas wanted to be happy, seeing Dean so happy and full of laughter, but he knew his own laughter must sound hollow … he wasn’t that good of an actor. Fortunately, Lee was too preoccupied with Dean to notice. And Dean was too deep in the pitcher of beer to be especially perceptive.

Cas understood, of course, that sexuality was spectrum. But he’d never seen Dean express interest like this in anyone who wasn’t in an overtly female appearing body. It was actually one of the things he’d been briefed on about Dean in the early days … the hunter’s very healthy, and very hetero, sexual appetite. In fact he’d been instructed to choose a male vessel so as to reduce the likelihood of his accidentally distracting the Michael sword.

And he couldn’t quite quell the feeling of hurt that Dean had hidden this aspect of himself so thoroughly from him. Sexual preferences simply didn’t bear any moral significance to Cas — or to anyone in heaven. He had no reason to fear judgement from an angel. Did Dean really think Cas, whom he called his “best friend,” would judge him?

Though perhaps … did Dean prefer for Cas to think he was heterosexual so that there could be no confusion on Castiel’s part as to what their relationship was — and, by extension, what it would never be?

That was likely reading too much into the situation. Even in his current mood Cas had to admit to himself that he was overreacting. He wasn’t being rational.

But still …

Why couldn’t Dean look at him the way he was looking at Lee? If it wasn’t because Cas was a man … was it because he was an angel? Because Dean couldn’t feel attraction for someone who wasn’t really human? Or was it simply that Cas had hurt him and betrayed his trust too many times in the past for him to consider that sort of intimacy. Or …

“Earth to Cas. You in there buddy?” Dean asked, giving Cas a worried look from the other side of the table. “You were totally zoned out there for a minute. I had to try, like, three times to get your attention.”

“Oh, um, sorry. I was just … thinking … about the case. That’s all.”

Dean still looked concerned, and he was opening his mouth to say something more when a woman’s voice rang out from across the room.

“Stop it! Leave me alone! I said stop it!”

Dean and Lee looked at each other. Dean arched an eyebrow and Lee smiled and nodded. The two men stood up in unison and waded through the crowd to the source of the disturbance. They found two men, rough looking guys in biker leather, hassling a younger and very intoxicated blonde woman. She was saying “no” loud and clear and the men were not taking it for an answer.

“Hey now there. The lady told you to leave her alone,” said Dean.

Lee sidled up beside him, adding, “You two fellas have had enough. I think it’s time you went on home.”

“Nah, I think we’ll stay a bit longer,” said one toughs. He and his friend, both of whom had quite a bit of body mass on Lee and Dean, moved to stand side by side, smirking at the other men with a _what are you going to about_ attitude. Once more, Dean and Lee exchanged looks and Lee nodded.

The next thing Cas knew, fists were flying, and then bodies. He moved as swiftly as he could to Dean’s side, thinking to protect his intoxicated friend. But even drunk, Dean could take most anyone human in a fair one-on-one fight. He and Lee had made quick work of the two jerks, hurling them out the door, and were already giving each other a congratulatory slap on the back and quick hug while also surreptitiously checking each other for injuries.

The intimacy of the moment, despite the crowd around the two men, made Cas feel like an intruder. He shrank backwards to give them more space.

“You alright Sally?” asked Lorna, and Cas’ attention snapped to the blonde woman the men had been harassing.

“Sally Anderson?” he asked.

“Yeah, that’s me. Why?”

The crowd was thinning out now that the action was over and half the room was trashed. Cas looked up to find Dean searched the room with his eyes. When he spotted Cas, the hunter let out a breath he seemed to have been holding and made his way over to his friend.

“Dean, this is Sally Anderson.”

“Thank you, for handling those assholes for me,” Sally said to Dean and Lee.

“Happy to be of service,” said Dean with an easy smile. “Actually, I think my friend Cas here and I were looking for you. Are you Angela Sullivan’s friend?”

“Yeah, why?” Sally asked again.

Dean pulled out his FBI badge and flashed it quickly. “We’re investigating her disappearance.”

“You won’t find her,” said Sally, her voice thick from the alcohol and the start of tears.

“How about we get you a glass of water and give you some time to calm down, and then we can talk. Sound good?” said Dean, gently.

Sally nodded and accepted the glass of water Lorna brought over to her. She gave one to Dean and one to Lee as well.

As the bar slowly emptied, Dean made small talk with Sally and Lorna, and Cas observed Dean. It was peculiar, but as it got later, Dean seemed to seek out Cas with his eyes more often, as though checking if he were okay. Cas wasn’t sure what to make of it. Could Dean have picked up on Cas’ growing melancholy as he watched Lee’s subtle flirting? Cas hoped not … he hoped it was just Dean’s concern over Cas’ newly human state.

Despite his worry that Dean might read his emotions accurately, Cas found himself feeling a bit better as, minute by minute, Dean’s attention shifted more towards him and away from Lee.

Eventually it was just the five of them left: Dean, Sally, Lorna, Cas, and Lee. Dean had drifted over to sit beside Cas, with Sally seated across the table from them. Lee sat at the bar. Cas glanced up more than once to catch the tail end of one of Lee’s narrow, searching looks at himself and Dean.

“So Sally,” Dean began, seeming much soberer than before — Cas would have been impressed at his friend’s ability to focus so well had he not been very aware of Dean’s high functioning alcoholism — “how about you tell us what happened that night.”

“Well, we were at B’s. I was finishing my drink from last call, so Angela and I were the last two to leave as they were shutting down. They don’t get the crowds there that they do here at Swayze’s. It’s why Angela liked to try to get us to go there instead sometimes.

“Anyway, I was pretty hammered, but Angela, she was helping me to her car when I needed ... you know, I got sick. And when I was done, she was gone. Angela was raptured, and I was left behind.”

“Why do you say she was raptured?”

“Cause, you know, she was a good girl … loved Jesus …”

“And America too?” cut in Lee, with a smirk. Four sets of eyes glared at him, and he quieted back down with a frown. Lee’s good mood seemed to have evaporated completely.

“ And her car, that disappeared as well?” asked Cas

“Yeah, it got raptured, too, I guess,” answered Sally.

Once more Lee cut in, “You can't rapture a car.”

“It was a good car,” Sally shot back, defensively. “Angela wouldn’t of left me there like that. She was a good friend, the best friend anybody could ask for. And what they’re saying about her, that she skipped town without telling anyone, she never woulda done that. She loved me and her sister and her other friends; she wouldn’ta made us worry like that!”

“Yes, that’s what her sister told me as well,” offered Cas, soothingly. “She sounds like a very virtuous person.”

“She was,” said Sally, the tears starting up again.

“Do you remember anything else from that night?” asked Dean. “Any people who were watching you and Angela a bit too much? Or any strange sounds or smells, like rotting egg maybe?”

“N-…no, nothing like that.”

“Okay, I think that’s all for now. Here’s my card. Please, call us if you remember anything … anything else at all, alright?” said Dean. “Even the smallest detail could help.”

“Okay,” said Sally, wiping her nose on her sleeve. She followed Lorna to the front of the bar as the other woman helped her call an Uber.

Lee walked over to their table. “Dean, you’re not buying this right? Her story, man…”

“Yeah, I know. She’s not the most reliable witness. But best friends don’t just up and leave like that,” Dean cast Cas a quick glance, “not without saying goodbye at least.”

“Unless they deserve it,” replied Lee. Dean flinched just the tiniest bit, but enough for Cas, sitting right beside him to notice. Cas had to stop himself from reaching out to touch Dean’s arm reassuringly.

“So Lee,” Dean went on, “last thing I want to do here is drag you back into the life, like, at all. You got out and that’s amazing. Most people I’ve known …” Dean paused, wrestling with some emotion, one Cas was pretty sure he could guess, “… not many hunters get that. And just … I’m so happy for you man, really. This is amazing and you deserve it, you really do.”

“I appreciate that, Dean,” said Lee, his eyes going soft as he added, “I’d say the same about you, you know?”

“Yeah well …” Dean paused awkwardly, blushing just a bit, as Cas couldn’t help but notice. “Anyway, um, we sure could use a local resource on this one, you know just for some basic information. The Sheriff’s not going to be much help, and Sally sure doesn’t seem like she is either. Would you mind if I just, you know, picked your brain a little? When we need someone to point us in the right direction?” asked Dean.

“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” said Lee, grinning with a big, bright smile once again. “’Specially if it means I get to see a bit more of you while you’re here.” At this Lee’s eyes flicked up and down Dean’s body, so quickly as to almost make you question if it had happened. But Cas was pretty sure he did _not_ imagine it,

“Well, uh, um, okay then?” said Dean, blushing a little harder. The jealousy Cas had been feeling earlier came roaring back at full force as he watched Dean fidget and scuff his boot on the floor like a teenager.

“All right, well, first things first, where do you, uh... where do you dump a car around here?”

“Hmm,” said Lee, making a show of thinking it over, “the lake maybe?”

“Lee, what about the wreckingyard?” asked Lorna who had walked up just a moment ago, unnoticed by Dean and Lee, both of whom gave her a slightly startled glance. “Look, I don’t want to know okay? It’s a bit too much tragedy for my taste if something really did happen to that girl. I'm just saying, if I had to get rid of something, Merle's is the place I'd do it..”

“I don’t know Lorna,” said Lee, “That seems a bit too obvious right? Wouldn’t the lake be safer?”

“Maybe,” replied Lorna. As she walked into the back of the bar, she called over her shoulder, “I’m not the type to go hiding cars anyway, so what do I know.”

“Well, we’ll check both,” said Dean, hopping up from his chair and nearly tripping over it.

“Whoa, cowboy,” said Lee, with a chuckle, as he beat Cas to grabbing Dean’s arm and helping him regain his balance. “Maybe hold off ‘til mornin’ at least?”

“Yeah, heh, yeah, I think you’re probably right about that,” said Dean, looking embarrassed. “I’d, uh, better be going, back to the motel you know. Cas and me, we should get an early start tomorrow.”

“Sure thing Dean,” said Lee, then turning to Cas, “Hey, could Dean and I have just a minute.”

Cas’ stomach dropped. “Sure,” he replied, turning to go out the door. As it closed behind him he caught a glimpse of Lee leaning forward to kiss a startled Dean on the lips.

Cas walked over to the Impala in a daze and leaned against its hood. He tried to sort through his feelings about Lee, though it was hard to collect his thoughts. His whole body felt numb after seeing the former hunter kiss Dean. He did not have a good feeling about the man. But was that just his jealousy and hurt clouding his judgement?

If so, it wasn’t fair to Dean, or to Lee, Cas tried to tell himself. Dean and Cas were friends, good friends, family even. That was more than Cas likely even deserved from the hunter after the various ways he’d disappointed him over the years, he thought glumly. And Dean deserved to be loved. He did deserve to be happy. If they could find a way through this Chuck situation, maybe Dean could find some happiness here in Texhoma. His dream loop when Michael had possessed him had been about owning a bar after all. Dating a bar owner would probably be a close second. Maybe, Cas thought, this was a door out of the life opening up for his friend.

But then again … why hadn’t Lee recognized one of his regulars, especially one who had been in the newspaper? And had something been off about that discussion of where to hide cars too? Cas shook his head. He was probably reading too much into the situation again. These human emotions were just so much more … prominent than angel ones. Not that he hadn’t felt things as an angel, and felt them deeply. He’d just been able to compartmentalize more efficiently to maintain his logic despite the distractions.

Dean came out of the bar and — now Cas was sure he was imagining things — cast his friend a guilty glance before tossing him the keys to the Impala. “Would you mind driving us back?” he asked.

“Of course,” replied Cas, unlocking the doors and sliding into the driver’s seat.

“I’m, um, sorry … about drinking this much on the job. I’m not sure what came over me. Just not thinking clearly, I guess,” mumbled Dean.

“Well, thankfully for us your long-time alcohol abuse has made you remarkably adept at doing most things while intoxicated,” said Cas, amusement in his voice softening any criticism there might have been in his remark. “I do appreciate that you don’t drive like this though.”

“Can’t risk Baby,” yawned Dean, then more quietly, “or you.”

Cas’ heart skipped a beat. It was not a sensation he was used to, and it was decidedly uncomfortable but also somehow a very good feeling at the same time.

They drove to the motel in companionable silence. Immediately after walking in the door, Dean stumbled trying to kick off his boots. This time there was no one to get in his way as Cas grabbed the other man’s arm with one hand and placed his other hand against Dean’s waist to help the hunter stay on his feet. He could feel Dean’s muscles physically relax under his touch. Dean smiled as he looked up into Cas’ eyes and said, “Thanks.”

The hunter plunked down onto the bed to take his boots off the rest of the way from a safely seated position. As he fidgeted with the laces, he asked Cas, without meeting his eyes, “So, um, I know we’ve got work to do tomorrow morning, but … would you want to watch a little TV or something first? While I get some water in me?”

“Sure,” said Cas, “that sounds nice.”

Dean, finally sans boots, scooted up to the headboard — leaving one side of the bed clearly open for Cas to sit down as well — and turned on the TV to begin flipping through the channels. He stopped on an old Western, one he and Cas had already watched together previously. “This okay?”

“Yes,” said Cas, settling down next to Dean and handing him a glass of water from the bathroom. They watched the movie for a while without talking, Cas just happy to sit near Dean and enjoy something together, like old times. It wasn’t long, though, before his curiosity overrode his sense of contentment.

“Dean?”

“Yeah, Cas?”

“I don’t mean to pry, but … just in case it ends up being relevant at some point while we’re here, um … you and Lee … you seem like you have some history. More than just going on a few hunts together …” he trailed off, unsure how to finish his thought.

Dean fidgeted next to him, “Yeah, uh, yeah, we do.”

Cas couldn’t help himself, even though he already knew the answer, and even though he knew it would hurt 'like a bitch' — as Dean might say — hearing it spoken aloud.

“Romantic history?”

“Yeah.”

“I didn’t realize, not that it matters at all, but I just always assumed you were heterosexual. You’re very … enthusiastic, in your pursuit of women that is. I’d never seen you pursue a man or reciprocate one’s advances … that’s all.”

“I do like women. I like women a lot. Just … there’s also been the occasional guy I’ve liked too.”

Cas glanced over at Dean, and the hunter seemed to be holding his breath.

“If this conversation is making you uncomfortable, Dean, we don’t have to talk about this aspect of your life.”

“No, no, it’s just … I mean don’t take it personally or anything … that you didn’t know, I mean. Sammy doesn’t even know I’m bi, or at least I don’t think he does. Who knows what that guy’s got figured out with that big brain in that big head of his always working away.”

“That must have been difficult, all these years never being able to share a part of who you are with those closest to you.”

“Well … my dad … he knew.”

“Oh,” said Cas, unable to keep the surprise out of his voice.

“Yeah, I know,” said Dean with a weak laugh. “I didn’t tell him, trust me. He um … he figured it out. That was the last time I saw Lee actually.” Dean paused, talking a long gulp of water. Cas took the glass from him and went to the bathroom to refill it. Dean gave him a grateful smile as Cas sat back down on the bed.

“That hunt … it was a bad one, Cas. It was this cult in Alabama, sort of a witchcraft thing without any real teeth to it. Except they were trying to change that. They …” he paused, rubbing his hand over his eyes, “They were sacrificing their own kids to this demon. How the fuck does somebody do that?”

“I don’t know,” Cas whispered.

“Anyway, Lee and Dad and I … we’d done some hunts together in the past. Actually, I’d, uh, I’d been tipping off Lee on where Dad and I were hunting so Lee and I could meet up when we were in a similar part of the country. I’d see him on and off, over, probably about a two span. It didn’t take too long into the first hunt together for us to figure out we were both attracted to each other. Dad didn’t notice. He was drinking even heavier than he had been then, with Sammy off to college and him starting to find out things about mom’s death I guess.

“But after that hunt in Arizona. Jesus, Cas, we were all so messed up after that. Just … fuck, I’ll never be able to unsee it … My dad went to go drown his memory in whiskey, and to be honest Lee and I were doing a pretty good job of that as well. And, the thing was, we weren’t even really doing anything. You know, after something like that … sex is the last thing you’d want. But you want to be close to someone, to not feel so alone in the terribleness of it, you know?

“I can imagine, yes,” said Cas, quietly.

“Lee and I were just holding each other and kissing a little and then my dad stumbled in,” continued Dean, “and he started yelling at Lee to ‘get your fucking hands off my fucking son.’ I was 26, so it’s not like I was a kid or anything. But Lee did have close to ten years on me. You wouldn’t know it looking at him now though — the man’s aged better than I have. But anyway, I’m sure the age difference maybe made things even worse for my dad.

“After he ran Lee out of the room he sat me down and told me that in our line of work, a lot of people don’t take kindly to two men being together. Said I shoulda been smart enough to figure that out myself. And he knew I liked girls, so if I knew what was good for me I’d just stick to chasing girls. That he’d better never so much as hear a rumor about me messing around with a guy ever again. And — dammit, it really does make me sound like the ‘good little soldier’ Sam used to call me — but I just said ‘yes sir’ and went to bed.

“And we never talked about it again. But things felt awkward, tense, you know? I, um, I actually took a hunt by myself not too long after that just to give us some space from each other. And then he disappeared and I went to go find Sam at Stanford, and Dad and I never did get a chance to talk about what had happened — not that we probably would’ve anyway. But we never had a chance for things to get back to normal between us. I never even got to ask him if he was one of those hunters who didn’t take kindly to two men kissing, though I guess he probably was. But … I know he was really trying to protect me too.”

“You don’t need to apologize for him Dean,” said Cas, his voice gentle.

“I know … believe me, after all these years I’ve figured that much out at least. But never getting to talk to him about it? And how everything went down in the end with him making the deal to save me … I guess I let his advice get in my head anyway. Lee was only the second guy I’d ever actually been with, and there haven’t been any since.”

Cas looked at Dean’s profile for a moment, considering the sad set to his friend’s mouth, and the resignation in his eyes. He thought carefully before responding, “Thank you for trusting me with your story.”

“Thanks for listening to it.”

They sat there quietly for a time, comfortably, side by side, with the glow of the long-since-forgotten movie illuminating the room. At last Cas broke the silence.

“Well, I’d better be going to sleep I guess. Do you mind if I use the comforter?”

“You don’t have to sleep on the floor Cas. I mean, not if you don’t mind just sharing the bed. I promise, I’m not going to try to seduce you or anything just because you know I’m bi now.”

“Of course not Dean, that would be … that would be ridiculous. We’re friends, family even,” said Cas, his voice going a bit flat.

“Yeah,” said Dean softly. Cas was too lost in his own head to notice the sadness behind the single word.

And so they laid down, each on their own side of the queen-sized bed, each carefully avoiding touching the other, and fell asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Cas! At least he didn't have to sleep on the floor. More to come soon. I'm still trying to figure some things out about the next chapter.


	8. A Not So Clear Head

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will not abandon this fic! It will get finished! Thank you to everyone who is sticking with me and reading this one still. Life has been rough, depression has been kicking my butt a bit this fall. But things are getting a little better and I'm trying to get back in healthier routines and back to writing. I've gone back through the story and ANY TEXT DIRECTLY QUOTED FROM THE SHOW IS NOW UNDERLINED. Stylistically, it's a little distracting. But the ex-academic in me needed to credit the words that were not mine.

_I want you to soar, don't doubt anymore  
Little by little, we'll meet in the middle.  
Won't you decide? If that's alright, won't you decide?  
I hope you can hear me, I needed you near me.  
I want you to soar. You save my life.  
Don't doubt anymore. Let's keep this between you and I._

_\- The Head and The Heart, “Honeybee”_

Dean woke up, once again, with a pounding headache. No matter how much he drank, or how often, the hangovers never went away.

A warm pressure was on his chest, his hand resting on firm shoulder that rose and fell with gentle breaths. Dean found himself disoriented for a moment … _Did I get lucky last night?_ he wondered. Then he froze.

Cas. He was sharing a bed with Cas. At some point in the night they must have each moved towards the other in their sleep because they were now cuddling in one another’s arms in the middle of the bed. _Shit_ , thought Dean. Cas might be pretty new to being a human but he wasn’t born yesterday. The former angel surely knew that two platonic friends did not usually wake up embraced in one another’s arms.

His friend’s breathing was steady and deep. He was still asleep. Dean lay completely still, worrying over how he should play this when Cas woke up. After last night’s conversation he felt more nervous than ever about accidentally giving away how he felt somehow.

What had that been anyway? Dean was not usually the sharing type, not without a whole lot of little brother pestering anyway. And had he really drank that much the first night on a hunt? What was going on with him? _Gotta get my head on straight_ , thought Dean.

Maybe Cas was right. Maybe it was a good thing he hadn’t come on this hunt alone.

 _Cas_. There was no way to move without waking him. So after several minutes of worrying about the situation, Dean decided to instead lay quietly in the early morning light and try to enjoy the sensation of waking up with his best friend cradled against him like a lover. He’d probably never get another chance, after all.

It was different than anything Dean had experienced before. Cas’ muscles felt firm beneath Dean’s hand. The stubble on his chin was scratchy against Dean’s chest. The leg slung over his own was oddly heavy. It had been so long since Dean had held another man in any way that approached this sort of intimacy. And even then … a boy in one high school … Lee … he’d never fallen asleep with either of them, never woken up in their arms.

But there was more to it than that. He’d never woken up with someone he cared about as deeply as he did Cas. He’d loved Cassy, sure. And Lisa too. But he hadn’t known them the way he knew Cas. And they hadn’t known him the way Cas knew him. The only person he’d ever loved as intensely as he loved Cas was Sam, but that was completely different. As many times as he’d told Cas he was like a brother to him, Dean knew it wasn’t true. It had never been true. He’d been falling for this mysterious, powerful, compassionate being, slowly but surely, ever since that day Cas sat beside him on a bench and confessed that he had doubts. Dean had realized then that Cas wasn’t so different from himself after all, and the vague attraction he’d felt since that staggering moment when Cas first revealed himself in the barn had begun to crystalize into something more.

He hadn’t been willing to call it love until Purgatory. Searching for Cas in that literally god-forsaken place, he’d known his desperation went far beyond camaraderie or friendship. But Cas was too important to lump his feelings in with the countless one-night-stands, the basis of his previous understanding of intimacy. So he’d continued to bury the truth, hiding it even from himself.

Now that he’d finally accepted it, all of it, he had to also accept that Cas simply did not feel the same way. He’d made that very clear once again last night.

And to think, his beer muddled brain — and how much beer did Lee give him to get him that drunk anyway? — had worried about somehow betraying Cas by flirting with Lee.

Lee … now there was another puzzle. Seeing him had brought back a lot of memories, most all of them good. He made Dean nostalgic in a way he hadn’t been in a very, very long time. In other circumstances, Dean would have been all over Lee. But the truth was, as much attraction as there still was between the two of them, Lee wasn’t the one Dean wanted. Dean was exactly where he wanted to be right now, and if that made him a hopeless idiot destined for a future of lonely pining, so be it. _At least that future will probably be short and bloody_ , Dean thought to himself, giving in to the dark mood that was beginning to once more eclipse this golden moment.

Apparently getting out of bed and out of the bunker hadn’t been a magic bullet to dissipate the depression that had kept him half comatose for much of the past several weeks. _Go figure_ , thought Dean, unable to resist being sarcastic even in his thoughts.

Cas stirred against his side, sighed contentedly, then abruptly froze. He’d evidently realized where he was and who he was currently plastered against.

“Good morning, dude,” said Dean, having decided the best route was to play it cool, like this was no big deal. “Apparently we’re both cuddlers. If we share a bed again we should probably sleep with a blanket between us so we don’t accidently smother each other in our sleep.” With that, Dean rolled out of bed, stretched, and walked toward the shower, calling causally over his shoulder, “Hey, would you mind getting a pot of coffee going? My head’s killing me.”

“Um … sure, of course,” came Cas’ befuddled reply from the other room as Dean shut the bathroom door.

………

Cas stared at Dean as the other man drank his coffee. He knew he shouldn’t, but the years old habit was hard to break and the disorientation Cas felt after waking in his friend’s arms was enough to bring it back full force.

“What’s the matter there Cas? I got something on my face?” said Dean. Cas blushed and looked away, though Dean’s voice sounded oddly pleased rather than irritated.

“No, um, sorry … I just … it’s nice to be on a hunt with you.”

“Yeah, it’s nice being here with you too, buddy,” said Dean with a smile that crinkled the corners of his eyes.

“So, where do we begin today?” said Cas, looking firmly at his coffee mug.

“Let’s start with the scrapyard. It’ll be easier to check than the lake. If the car really is sunk in the lake we’d have a hell of a time finding it.”

“I think that’s a wise plan,” replied Cas, remembering once again his feeling of unease the previous night when they’d discussed hidden cars with Lee and Lorna.

“But first breakfast,” said Dean as he stood up and collected his jacket, phone, and gun.

Cas’s stomach rumbled reminding him, once again, that he was human now and that, yes, breakfast would be a very good idea.

After the two friends settled into a booth, Cas filled Dean in with more detail on his conversation with Angela’s sister and with the staff at B’s. The food arrived and the talk shifted to how the fishing had been Idaho.

“We should go fishing together sometime,” said Dean, his mouth still full of bacon and eggs, “I could give you some pointers.”

“I’d like that,” Cas responded. Everything felt so easy between them. Cas wished they could get in the car and drive away from Texhoma and this case and Lee … forget about Chuck and Lilith … find a lake somewhere and sit side by side and fish away the rest of the day.

He knew it wouldn’t be the same as it had been in his dream, but just a continuation of what he and Dean had right here in this booth? That would be enough.

“Alright then,” Dean continued, crumpling up his napkin and tossing some bills on the table, “back to work.”

Cas followed his friend out of the diner with a sigh.

“You okay?” asked Dean, one eyebrow quirked up. “Thought you wanted in on this hunt?”

“Yes, I do,” said Cas, “I’m fine. Just … a little tired maybe.”

“Still getting used to not having your grace?” guessed Dean. He started the Impala and backed her up into the road.

“Yes, that’s part of it,” answered Cas, staring out the window but unable to appreciate the bright, clear morning that stretched around them.

“We’ll find a way to fix it, Cas,” Dean said quietly in a reassuring voice.

“I’m afraid I don’t think there is a fix Dean, but … it’s okay, actually. I generally don’t mind being human. It has its advantages.”

“Yeah?” said Dean, giving Cas a relieved smile.

“Yes. My only regret is that I can’t be of more use to you and Sam.”

“You’re plenty useful, Cas,” said Dean, giving Cas a look the former angel couldn’t interpret. “And anyway, you don’t even _need_ to be useful. We want you around no matter what.”

Cas felt the corners of his mouth rise into a soft smile as a warm feeling spread through his chest.

Too soon the Impala was pulling into the scrapyard. Cas and Dean dispensed with the FBI schtick for the time being, posing as two ordinary friends looking for a part for one of their cars. They ambled through the aisles, checking for Angela’s car which ,Cas had been amused to learn, was an early 2000s Chevy Impala (“It’s _not_ the same thing, Cas,” Dean had grumbled more than once).

Dean had gotten on a long explanation of the differences between classic and modern cars, and as he and Cas strolled through the scrapyard, Cas could almost pretend they were just out for a walk together. Dean was in his element here, pointing out different cars and explaining the intricacies of automotive mechanics. It was maybe even better than if they had been strolling through a park.

The mood was quickly shattered when they finally stumbled upon the beige Impala. The doors and tires had been removed from the vehicle. Someone had gone through some effort to make the car look like just another junker.

“It’s curious …” Cas began before trailing off in thought.

“What’s curious?” asked Dean, who was inspecting the now open trunk.

“There’s no dust or pollen on the driver’s side door frame, the steering wheel, or the gear stick. Almost like they were recently wiped clean.”

“Yeah, the trunk smells like bleach. Like someone was trying to make sure no evidence would be here for the police to find. Seems like more effort than the typical monsters Sam and I hunt.”

“But it’s more than that. Dean … it’s almost like whatever took Angela knew we were here … knew we’d likely find this car and report it to the police.”

“You think?” asked Dean. His tone considering but lacking the worry that Cas was beginning to feel. “So someone we’ve talked to since we’ve been in town, yeah? That’d be the sheriff, Angela’s sister, Sally, the staff at B’s, or maybe someone who overheard us at Swayze’s …”

Cas took a deep breath, knowing before he said the words that he would probably end up regretting them …

“What about Lee?”

“You serious?” Dean’s head jerked up and he gave Cas an incredulous look.

“Dean, think about it. He tried to discourage us from coming here to look for the car. He also claimed not to recognize Angela’s photo when she was one of his regulars …”

“No man, just … no,” said Dean, shaking his head.

“Dean, I know Lee is your friend, but it has been a long time since you knew him. We have to consider …”

“I said no, Cas. Lee’s a good man, a good hunter, retired or not. It’s just not possible.”

Dean glared at Cas, who returned his look with a puzzled frown. _What is going on here?_ Dean’s refusal to even consider Lee didn’t make sense, regardless of their past relationship. Dean was a better hunter than this. Moreover, just from Dean’s history with Cas and with Sam and with himself, the man shouldn’t be surprised by the idea of seemingly out-of-character betrayal.

“You’re not being objective Dean.”

“Yeah, well, Lee was family once. I know him Cas. This ain’t him.”

“You know better than most that family doesn’t mean you can trust someone Dean.”

 _Too far_ , thought Cas, as he watched Dean’s body tense in anger.

………

Dean could feel his hands clenching into fists. He wasn’t sure if Cas’ comment was a dig at him or at Sam, but layered on top of Cas’ repeated accusations against Lee, despite Dean vouching for the bar owner, it was too much. Dean needed to put some distance between them before he blew up completely.

“You call the sheriff, let him know we found the car. I’ll go to B’s, see if anyone there’s acting shifty today.”

“I’m not sure we should be splitting up Dean,” said Cas, squinting his eyes and giving Dean that appraising look he was so good at.

“Why are you Mr. Velcro all of a sudden, huh? You couldn’t get away from me fast enough after Harlan.”

Cas flinched and Dean could have kicked himself. Why couldn’t he control his damn mouth?

“You didn’t give me a choice. You couldn’t forgive me and you couldn’t move on. You were too angry. I left but you didn’t stop me.”

The truth of Cas’ words punched the fury right out of Dean like a blow to the stomach knocking the wind from his lungs. “Of course I forgave you Cas,” he said, his tone suddenly going quiet. “And I’m sorry I never said it before, okay? I’m sorry. And yeah, sure, I was angry. It was easier to be angry, to let you walk away, than it was to keep worrying about you every minute of every damn day. I couldn’t lose you Cas. Not you, not after everyone else.”

Cas looked more baffled than ever, his head cocked to the side. “What? … Dean, you do realize that makes absolutely no sense.”

“We’d just lost Rowena,” countered Dean, his voice rising in volume again. “She was the most powerful witch maybe ever, and she was at the top of her game. If there was anyone, anyone in the whole universe, that wrote her own rules it was Rowena. And she _died_ Cas. She got backed into a corner and she and Sam had to play the hand that fate, that Chuck, dealt them.

“And you … look I knew your power was fading. I’m not blind. I’d seen it for a while. And I’m sorry I couldn’t talk to you about it. But Cas … how many times have you died for Sam and me? Huh? How many of those times were you a fully charged angel? Chuck _loves_ killing you. And it’s only going to be easier for him now. There’s nothing he could throw at me and Sam at this point that could hurt us as much as losing you and …. Damn it Cas, I burned your body,” the fire was back in full force in Dean’s voice now.

“After Lucifer stabbed you, I wrapped you in a sheet and I burned your body and buried your ashes. And I can’t … I can’t do that again Cas. I barely survived doing it the last time. I mean it, I practically tried to die. If Billy would’ve let me, I would have,” Dean finished with a shout.

“What?” Cas was absolutely still, frozen by Dean’s words. Dean couldn’t tell what the emotion was behind Cas’ question … Confusion? Disbelief? Anger?

“What do you mean you _practically tried to die_?” Cas growled.

 _Oh, okay,_ thought Dean _, definitely anger._

“Sam and I, we were on this hunt, this serial killer ghost psychiatrist. I needed to know where the victims’ bodies were buried. So I used this drug to stop my heart to talk to the ghosts in the veil. I knew the risk I was taking, I knew it was stupid, I just didn’t care.”

Cas’ head cocked even further to side, as he squinted at Dean, his mouth open slightly in a look of utter disbelief. Now it was Cas’ hands that were clenched into fists. “Dean, if you’d succeeded … what it would have done to Sam. And to me when I was resurrected …” he said through gritted teeth

“Well I didn’t Cas, okay? And you were dead. You weren’t there.”

Cas turned, his eyes squeezed shut as he ran a hand over his face in frustration.

“I’ll call the sheriff. You go to B’s. I need some time to process this.”

And Dean was still flying high enough on his own feelings of irritation to turn and walk away. He stomped back to the Impala, slamming the door and turning the key in the ignition with more force than was necessary, unable to even bring himself to think something consoling towards his Baby for the rough treatment.

Dean pulled away from the wrecking yard with a screech of tires. _Who the hell does he think he is, getting mad at me for being in a bad place_ , thought Dean, remembering Cas’ behavior in purgatory. And it’s not like Dean needed anyone to tell him risking his life had been a dick move towards Sam. He was well aware of it. Just another of the ways he’d fucked up in his job as Sam’s protector.

The anger was slowly but surely turning inward, as it always did. His thoughts distracted him enough that he was surprised when he stopped the car to realize he hadn’t driven to B’s after all. Instead, he was in the parking lot of Swayze’s.

 _Huh_ , thought Dean, unwilling to read into why his subconscious might have brought him to Lee’s doorstep — whether it the nagging reminder of Cas’ suspicions or a vindictive product of Dean’s own anger with his best friend. _As though Cas would even care if I went running into Lee’s arms_ , thought Dean, exhaling in an angry huff.

Whatever his reasons for coming here might be, Dean felt drawn inside. He found himself opening the Impala’s door and, once again with having consciously decided to, he was moving towards Swayze’s. Towards Lee.

The door was open but when Dean stepped inside, the bar was empty. _Right, it’s not even noon yet_ , thought Dean. “Lee?” he called out.

“That you Dean?” answered a voice from somewhere beyond the bar. A moment later the double doors swung open and Lee came striding through, a confident grin on his face. “Knew you’d be back.”

“S- sorry to barge in like this,” said Dean, tripping over his words and not understanding why.

“No worries there Dean. Your timing actually couldn’t be better. We’re closed Wednesday’s for inventory. You and me have the place to ourselves. How bout I pour you a beer and you take a load off, huh?”

“It’s uh, you know, a little early for a drink. Even for me, heh,” Dean replied, laughing nervously. _Christ, I sound like a freakin’ school girl_.

But somehow he found himself at the bar, staring in confusion at the beer in his hand.

“It’s okay to relax Dean,” said Lee, leaning against the bar next to him. “It’d be okay for you to relax a lot more than this. If you wanted to stay … take a break from the life. See how it suits you.”

And then Dean was kissing Lee, or Lee was kissing him. Dean didn’t know which it was nor did he know how he kept getting from point A to point B. He felt drunk even though he hadn’t taken a single sip of the beer Lee had pressed on him.

Somewhere in the back of Dean’s mind he felt himself wondering, _What’s going on?_ But more immediately he felt himself relaxing into the feel of Lee’s lips on his, the slide of their tongues against each other’s, the way Lee’s hands were roaming over his body …

It was becoming harder and harder to form any coherent thought at all. When the sound of the office phone ringing cut through the fog, Dean was surprised to find Lee’s hands deftly unbuckling Dean’s belt and reaching for the button on his jeans.

“Shit, that’ll be my whisky distributor,” growled Lee, brows knit in irritation. “To be continued,” he said, smiling at Dean in a way that looked damn near predatory. Dean felt a shiver run down his spine, and not in a pleasant way. “Give me 15 minutes.” And with that, Lee disappeared back through the swinging doors leaving Dean pressed against the bar with his heart racing and his head spinning.

Dean’s instincts, honed over decades of hunting, were screaming at him that something wasn’t right. But his mind and body were both fighting him. He felt like he was going to be sick, and he stumbled to his feet in search of the bathroom. Only when he got to the dark hallway on the far side of the bar, his eyes caught on a padlock on a supply closet. Why hadn’t he noticed that last night?

Dean dug his lock picks out of his pocket and fitted them into the padlock as though he were in a dream. It was a heavy-duty type, but even in his befuddled state Dean’s practiced hands made quick work of it, the mechanism clicking open seemingly through muscle memory alone. Opening the door, Dean was surprised to find, not a supply closet after all, but a dark staircase winding down into the building’s stone foundation.

Still moving in a dream like state, Dean’s feet practically floated down the stairs. He gazed at the sturdy steel chair in from him, bolted to the ground, and at the leather restraints on the arms, legs, and around the back, his mind not quite able to process what he was seeing.

Then a sudden pain bloomed across the back of Dean’s head and the world went dark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed this chapter. We're getting near the end I think and the next two chapters are pretty well planned out.

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you think and whether the Dean and Cas make up in 15.9 felt as weak to you as it did to me! Seriously, if they are going to constantly (and intentionally, you know what you're doing screenwriters) tease fans with a Dean/Cas romance, they need to at least do better than that.


End file.
